


A Sith's Folly

by Fromthedeepsea



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Fix-It, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-05-25 08:51:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6188074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fromthedeepsea/pseuds/Fromthedeepsea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having foreseen the embers of treason, the Emperor Darth Sidious has evoked an ancient Sith ritual meant to purge all remaining light from his apprentice’s soul. But he failed to anticipate a Jedi’s tenacity. Anakin Skywalker has returned, and together with his children, he may yet fulfill his destiny to destroy the Sith, and their Empire.  </p>
<p>Set post A New Hope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all! I've been on an Anakin/Luke Father/Son relationship binge, and it inspired me to finally do something with this idea I've had for a while. Hope you enjoy! I'M LOOKING FOR A BETA READER! Someone to help me with grammar and tell me when I'm overdoing it with the descriptions. PM me if you're interested!

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  **Prologue**

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“Rogue Four and Rogue Five, form up behind Two and Three. Ready attack pattern gamma.”

_“Copy, Rogue Leader. Attack pattern gamma.”_

The X-wings veered smoothly across the blackness of space, maneuvering around each other with practiced precision. In the blink of an eye, they had assembled in a tight formation of twos, moving as one towards an imagined enemy.

Glancing left and right from his cockpit, Commander Luke Skywalker of the Rebel Alliance surveyed the squadron’s new flight pattern. As always, Rogue Group kept expert synchrony, flying in perfect tandem.

It still amazed Luke how easily this crew had shaped up, and how naturally it had become a formidable team. Not even a year ago, they had all been strangers from different squadrons in different corners of the galaxy. This was a ragtag group if there ever was one, but they had all flocked to Luke like a beacon after the Battle of Yavin. They said they would follow him, much to the former farmboy’s shock. He had never led anyone before in his life, and now these ace pilots wanted to serve under his command. It was unbelievable. At the time, he had even found it ridiculous. Him, a squad leader? Who in their right mind would think that was a good idea? But the rest had happened as if by fate. Soon after Luke was made Commander, the new Rogue Squadron was born, and none too soon. They had already seen more action in their short tenure than many other squadrons would see in a lifetime, making them one of the most successful starfighter squads in the Rebel Alliance.

Luke brightened at the memory. His whole life had changed so quickly it was still hard to believe it wasn’t all just a dream. Caught in retrospect, he wondered what would have happened had he never left his homeworld of Tatooine, but quickly halted that train of thought before it got a hold of him. It would only served to bring back painful memories. He had learned that during this last year. It was in the future where he should focus, and with that in mind he turned back to his controls. He had a drill to complete, one that had already roused his excitement to exponential heights. Just the thought of it was enough to exhilarate him.   

“Alright, Rogue Two,” he said, turning to his drill partner. “Let’s see if this really is as crazy as we made it sound during briefing,”

Zev made a ready gesture from his cockpit. _“Roger, Rogue Leader,”_  

 _“Crazy is our best tactic, sir,”_ Dak’s eager voice blasted over the comm. _“The Empire can’t handle crazy. Too many regulations.”_

The open link filled with laughter from the rest of the squad. Luke shook his head, even as he joined in. It was hard to keep the persona of a Commander sometimes, especially when Dak was around.

“Well, let’s hope they don’t catch on to our brand of crazy any time soon. This should throw them off for a good while.”

 _“It was a fool proof maneuver back in the day,”_ said Hobbie, evoking his ‘expertise’ yet again. _“They won’t know what hit ‘em. This tactic isn’t even mentioned at the Imperial Academy, since it was used by Jedi pilots.”_

An interest in old piloting techniques was one of Hobbie’s many quirks. He always had some curious historical anecdote or other to share with the rest of the squad. But this latest duo maneuver had been of particular interest to Luke. He just couldn’t pass up the opportunity of bringing it back from the bowels of obscurity. The idea had obsessed him for weeks. It was all he could think about, and for a very specific reason. The newly christened attack pattern gamma, whose original name was long lost to the Empire’s cleansing of Republican records, was a tag team combat tactic developed during the Clone Wars by none other than Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker.

A grave feeling of loss suddenly overcame Luke, just as it had when he first learned of this olden tactic. It was a familiar sensation, of which he knew he would never be free. It was always lurking at the back of his mind, and crept up on him like a dark shadow when he least expected, sinking him in a wave of crushing grief time and time again.

Anakin Skywalker. Once the greatest star pilot in the galaxy. Luke’s father.

No amount of time would ever ease the heartache he felt every time he thought of Anakin. Growing up, Luke had always felt his father’s absence sharply, like a persistent tugging at his young heart. But the recent revelation of his true legacy had brought that old pain into new focus. Anakin Skywalker was a hero. He had been a Jedi Knight, a protector of peace and justice in the Old Republic, admired throughout the whole galaxy. And then he was murdered, ruthlessly stolen from Luke by an evil monster. A monster that still plagued the galaxy, unchecked and unchallenged. Unpunished.

Jaw clenching tight, Luke shook his head and took a deep calming breath. He tried to steer his thoughts away from his father’s killer, knowing it would lead to nothing good. He would not think like that. A Jedi would not think like that. He breathed out slowly, consciously letting his negative feelings escape into the Force. It was a trick he managed to teach himself a while back, based on what little he’d been taught. His gaze had drifted down the ship’s control panel, and his mind wandered away to impossible dreams. He always felt closest to Anakin’s memory while piloting. When he was young, he had often fantasized how his father would have taught him how to fly, had he been given the chance. Perhaps that’s why he had jumped at Hobbie’s suggestion. Reviving his father’s own technique was as close to learning from Anakin as he would ever get.

_“I’m in position, sir. Just give the word.”_

Zev’s voice cut through the haze of Luke’s melancholy, wrenching him back to the present. All around him, the squad was settled and waiting. He must have been lost in his thoughts for a while. He shouldn’t have let that happen. Clearing his throat, he checked the squad’s tight formation again before speaking.

“Right. Rogue Two, begin the assault on my mark. Let’s give Home One a good show.”

Zev laughed, but Luke could detect the smallest hint of nerves. _“Yes, sir. Only, let’s try to forego any explosions for now.”_

“Copy, Rogue Two. Begin attack pattern gamma.”

The two X-wings broke apart from the formation, swerving in opposite directions to begin the maneuver. They picked up speed, all the while trying to keep in perfect tandem from afar while doubling back in a tight curve. Luke tiched, already seeing they had overshot each other in the initial turn. The fighters were now facing each other, but not perfectly aligned. But they could fix it, he thought. He just had to cut speed, even if it altered the final stroke. Zev continued on his present acceleration, doing the impossible to align with Luke’s slower fighter. The new speed worked, to some extent. They were now almost in line, but they had run out of time for any more alteration to their course. It was enough to attempt the final stroke, Luke decided.

“Let’s finish, Zev.”

 _“Alright,”_ answered his partner, and he kept going. His voice had lost the touch of nerves, replaced by frustrated determination.       

Luke accelerated to match Zev’s speed, putting the two X-wings in a collision course, off center as it was. He felt waves of adrenaline pumping through his body, a string of sweat falling down his brow. In an instant the fighters were right on top of each other, less than a ship’s length apart. There was an obvious disjunction between them, but even with that they would have definitely collided if not for a split second swerve and turn at the very last moment. The fighters looped tightly around one another, almost touching wingtips. They both opened fire as they angled right around, creating a turning wheel of rapid laser blasts that would have hit anything around them. It lasted mere seconds until the two X-wings completed their u-turn and detached, each accelerating back the way they came. This maneuver was meant to produce a sudden 360 assault on surrounding enemy ships. But it could only work if the two fighters had approached at high speed and in perfect alignment. There would have been no opening, had their course been identical.        

Luke thumped the controls with his fist in frustration. But he quickly calmed himself, knowing it was foolhardy to hope for a perfect run on the first try. “Good work, Rogue Two,” he said. “That was alright.”

Despite their dubious performance, cheerful shouts blasted through the comm as the rest of the squad congratulated Luke and Zev. None of them would admit to it, of course, but they had all been a little worried about this test flight. It was a tough maneuver to pull off even outside of battle. They’d known that just from the descriptions, but at least they had managed to go through it without colliding into each other. They must have decided to call that a promising start.

 _“I told you they’d get it!”_ Dak yelled. _“No problem! This’ll send the Empire running, for sure! Just they wait!”_

Luke had to shake his head, laughing with the others. “Alright, Dak. Let’s just run through it a few more times first. There’s still a lot of work to do. I’d like to tighten the flank even more, and shorten the meeting point. We can’t leave any openings. We won’t have much time to think when we do this for real.”

_“Yes, sir.”_

“Rogue Three and Four, break up. Begin the assault when ready.”

The two fighters detached from the formation, putting enough space between them to start the exercise. Luke adjusted his course to deviate from the others, unable to keep a euphoric grin from splitting his face. Even though the exercise did not go as well as he had hoped, he was still thrilled, absolutely ecstatic. His grip on the ship's controls was even shaky from the sheer delight he felt at that moment. Luke’s smile broaden as fanciful images of a young Anakin Skywalker boldly executing this maneuver darted through his head. _This would have been you_ , he thought. _You would have been where I am now._ The idea of following his father’s footsteps, of carrying on his legacy, filled Luke with a kind of vindication that empowered his resolve. He knew, deep in his heart, that Anakin would be proud of him. He could almost feel his father watching him now, somewhere in the depths of his mind.     

He would get this maneuver down perfectly, no matter how long it took.

Fired up, he turned back to rejoin the squad and spoke into the comm. “Did you get all that, Artoo?”

His astromech whistled in affirmative. He had gathered all the data from the run for Luke to go over later. Already, the little droid had some careful observations to offer, which he beeped while Luke steered his X-wing into position.

“I know,” said Luke absently, watching as Rogue Three and Four took up positions. “We’ll need to gather more speed in the next run. That should make up for any delay.”

Artoo’s answer was a series of nervous beeps and anxious twists of his domed head.

“Don’t worry,” Luke laughed, glancing back at the anxious droid. “We just need to practice. It’s going to be fine.”

The next whistle sounded skeptic, but Luke just rolled his eyes and turned back to his controls. That’s when he felt it. A surge of violent and cold dread. It pierced through the Force and gored his skull like a blade. Luke shut his eyes, curling in on himself. Hot pain swelled against his chest, leaving him winded. He breathed in sharply, exhaled slowly. He concentrated, willing his mind to calm.

_“Commander, are you alright?”_

_“Commander?”_

_“Luke, can you hear me?”_

Concerned voices sounded through the comm and Artoo beeped at him anxiously from outside the cockpit, but Luke didn’t answer. He had to focus. The cold feeling persisted, but he could isolate it now. It was a raw throbbing in the Force, like a strong current pounding against his head. It felt remote somehow, and he suddenly realized the pain was not his own. It came from further out, hurtling towards them.

Something was approaching.

“We have incoming.”

No sooner than those words were past his lips that a single TIE Advanced starfighter warped out of hyperspace right in the middle of Rogue Squadron.

Luke’s eyes had not even landed on it before he was barking into the comm. “Break!”

A string of curses in a myriad of languages screeched through the link as the entire squad darted away from the intruder, leaving it at the center. Its sleek dark surface reflected their silhouettes as they hurtled about, like a piece of cold obsidian looming in their midsts.   

Luke was still yelling into the comlink. “Home One, this is Rogue Leader. We’re under attack!,” he said, making sure to keep the enemy ship on his scopes. “TIE fighter on starboard side.”

_“Copy, Rogue Leader. How many are there?”_

“Just one.” Luke paused then, suddenly puzzled. “It hasn’t opened fire.”

There was a moment of confused silence from the comm, which only served to convince Luke of how odd it really was. An answer came after a few seconds. _“Roger, Rogue Leader. We’re jamming its transmissions. Princess Leia is on her way. Stand by.”_

“Copy,” said Luke, his thoughts racing.

The TIE fighter had not moved at all, either to attack or in self-defense. It just drifted slowly from the spot where it appeared, without propulsion. Luke narrowed his eyes. Was the engine dead? Was the pilot dead? No. There was definitely someone in the darkened cockpit. The searing pain still resonating through the Force was coming from inside. Luke shook his head, trying to block it somehow.

The rest of Rogue Squadron had also turned towards it. They seemed about ready to start blasting away at the trespasser. Luke’s own finger was hovering just inches above the trigger, shaking with the effort not to fire. His eyes were locked on the angular TIE fighter as it floated before him, looming silently amid the X-wings. It was the same kind of fighter Darth Vader piloted. The sight of it made him sick. How many rebel pilots had this ship slaughtered? How many lives had it ended? Slowly, his finger came to rest right on the trigger, heat rising in the pit of his stomach. This wasn’t payback, he told himself. It was his duty as a rebel. It was the right thing to do.

_No, Luke._

His hands tore away from the ship’s console as if burned. That voice again, gentle and otherworldly. “Ben?”

There was no answer at first, just a solemn presence surrounding him. Luke had heard the old Jedi master before. He had felt his voice guiding him during his assault on the Death Star, urging him to trust in the Force. Luke calmed his mind, reaching out with his senses. _Ben?_

A soft whisper resonated through the Force. _Peace, Luke._

Then the presence faded away. The young pilot sat in his cockpit, his dead mentor’s words echoing in his mind. The TIE fighter still hadn’t moved, although the swells of agony flowing from it in thick waves had never stopped. Luke grimaced. He had never felt another person’s pain quite like this before, even when they were right in front of him. But this was different. The pain felt so...close, so real. It was alarming. Someone was badly hurt, maybe even dying. Whoever they were, they were helpless, alone, and surrounded by a squadron of hostile star pilots ready to blast them into oblivion.

“Form a perimeter,” he said suddenly. “Don’t engage. He’s not going anywhere.”

Wedge spoke up immediately. _“Sir, this could be a trap. I don’t think we should—”_

“We wait for word from Command, Rogue Three,” Luke’s voice was decisive, allowing no arguments. “That TIE looks like it’s malfunctioned. It won’t give us any trouble.”   

There was a hesitant silence, but only for a moment. _“Yes, sir.”_

Prompt and vigilant, the X-wings surrounded the drifting vessel, cutting off all possible escape routes and keeping a clear line of sight. They waited there silently, watching the fighter’s shadowy cockpit for any sign of life.

Leia’s voice came through the comm a few moments later. _“Luke, tell me what’s happening,”_ she said, a hint of worry laced in her words.

“A single TIE fighter jumped out of hyperspace right in the middle of our exercise,” he said. “It hasn’t moved, so it’s probably in bad shape.”

_“Does it look damaged?”_

“A little, but the pilot is injured.”

_“How do you know?”_

Luke regarded the imperial fighter, thinking. “I just know. He might be in serious trouble.”

There was silence from Leia’s end while she considered this. _“What TIE model is it?”_ she finally asked.

“An Advanced x1.”

_“Only high ranking imperial officers have those prototypes. If we capture him, we might be able to get some valuable information from him.”_

Luke nodded, even though Leia couldn’t see. “I agree. He’s stranded as it is. Even if he could, he won’t put up much of a fight.”

Luke listened as Leia conferred with someone at the other end of the comm. He couldn’t quite make out what was being said, but he could tell it was a heated discussion. For a grisly moment, he feared they would deem the idea too risky and order him to take down the TIE. He held his breath until Leia came back with their decision. _“We’re beaming him in. Have your squadron escort him back to Home One’s main hangar. You’re to open fire if he tries anything.”_

Luke let out a sigh of relief. “Copy, Home One.”

Leia then left the comm station, no doubt making her way to the hangar bay to prepare for their guest’s arrival. Their course of action settled, Luke switched to addressed the squadron.

“Let’s round him up, Rogue Group. We’re bringing him in. Whoever he is, he’s a prisoner of the Alliance now.”

_“Roger that, Commander.”_

The X-wings formed up closer around the TIE fighter, their blaster cannons locked and ready to fire. Luke pitched forward to join them. That’s when he realized his hands were shaking. Minutely at first, but as he watched they began to shudder with wayward tension. He grasped the controls tighter, willing them to settle. Why was he so scared? This wasn’t just apprehension. It was dread. The Force was choking him with it, like a warning. But it wasn’t for what the enemy ship might do.

All of a sudden, the TIE fighter was caught in Home One’s tractor beam, and it began to glide towards the open hangar bay on the side of the star cruiser.

Luke watched as it was dragged helplessly towards the larger frigate. “Artoo, is he trying to send any transmissions?” he asked.

The astromech beeped in negative. The TIE fighter was deathly quiet. Why didn’t the pilot even try to call for help? Why was it even out here, alone?

Luke’s mind raced until the captured fighter finally crossed the bay shields in Home One’s main hangar, and dropped slowly onto the deck. In seconds, it was surrounded by dozens of armed soldiers, their weapons aimed right at the ship’s black tinted screen. Leia was at their front, her face stern and hands steady on her pistol. Han was at her side, holding his own blaster at the ready.

“Talk about rolling out the welcome wagon, Your Worship,” said the former smuggler, scowling suspiciously at the imperial vessel. “We don’t even know who’s in there.”    

Leia didn’t spare him a glance. Her focus was completely dominated by the TIE fighter. Now that it stood right in front of her, it seemed monumental somehow. It was almost like she’d dreamed of this exact same moment before. It set her stomach aflutter. She didn’t understand why, but she couldn’t bring herself to think of harming its occupant now.

“We’re taking the pilot into custody,” was all she said, her voice resolute.

Han sighed in exasperation, but raised no further argument. “Whatever you say, Princess.”

Luke was landing his X-wing with the rest of Rogue Group. He jumped out and hurriedly handed his helmet to one of the flight crew. The tension in the hangar was intense. All around, pilots and mechanics were frozen in place, or moving cautiously as if in expectation of an attack at any given moment. All of their attention was locked on the captured ship.

Paying no mind, Luke dashed towards the TIE fighter and pressed through the gathered soldiers until he got to the front.

“You always make friends so easily, kid,” Han said without turning. “They just drop out of the sky to get to you.”

Luke didn’t reply. His eyes fixed on the cockpit. Automatically, he pulled out his blaster from its holster to mirror the other soldiers, but he didn’t raise it. It didn’t even occur to him he might be in danger.

Leia was calling out in a booming voice. “You are surrounded! But the Rebel Alliance is prepared to show you leniency, if you cooperate. Come out peacefully and you won’t be harmed!”

The hangar was utterly quiet and everyone waited for an answer. But none came. Luke’s free hand twitched nervously.

Leia also shifted her blaster in agitation. “We _will_ use force if you won’t cooperate! This is your final warning!”

Still nothing. The silence was becoming oppressive.

Han huffed, growing weary. “Maybe he’s dead.”

Luke shook his head. There _was_ someone in that ship. The presence was so sharp now, strained and confused. It was almost like they were reaching out to him. _You’re alive. I know you are._

Leia was waving her arm overhead. “Technicians! Open it up. You two cover them.” She gestured the soldiers forward while the mechanics set to work. They climbed up to the hatch and pried open the external control panel, the two soldiers standing at either side of the cockpit.

The hatch slid open with a hiss, and the soldiers leveled their weapons at the interior. There was a moment where nothing happened and everyone held their breath. The hangar was uneasy. Luke couldn’t see inside the cabin from his vantage point, and he had to fight the primal urge to vault up to the hatch himself and see. It was a struggle not to give in.

One of the soldiers finally moved and kneeled down slowly. He reached in, seemingly inspecting something. More quiet moments passed, and suddenly the soldier jolted back up, eyes wide. He twisted around and motioned for Leia to come up quickly.

The young rebel leader stepped forward immediately. “ _Is_ he dead?” she asked, climbing the front of the TIE fighter.

The soldier shook his head vehemently. “He’s alive,” he said. “But take a look.”   

Frowning, Leia lowered herself and peered into the cabin. She seemed confused for a few seconds, bending a little to take a closer look. Then shocked recognition dawned on her face. Her hand shot up to cover her mouth, and she twisted to meet Luke’s stare with eyes blown wide.

Luke felt his heart drop to the deck. The panicked look Leia was giving him was felt like a cold knife in his middle. It tore open the dam of emotions that had been building up in his chest since the TIE fighter suddenly appeared. Without a second thought, he jumped onto the imperial ship and dropped to look inside.

He saw a man. Long golden hair and pale skin, dressed in dark robes. He was slumped on the pilot’s seat, hanging limp from the security harness. His eyes were closed, but restless, darting from one side to the other behind his eyelids. A large gash was bleeding from the side of his head, and his shoulder was seared badly, his robe burnt right through to a gaping wound.

Luke was breathing wildly, his heart almost bursting out of his chest. This couldn’t be. It was impossible. It just couldn’t be!

As if awoken by his raging thoughts, the man’s eyes began to flutter open. Luke’s breath caught in his throat as bright blue eyes strained to focus on him. Their gazes met, perfect mirror images of each other, and the rest of the galaxy disappeared. There was nothing but recognition, and utter disbelief. The man’s lips quivered, and all he muttered was a single word.

“Luke.”

A choked sob escaped from the young Jedi to be, just as those blue eyes rolled back and faded into unconsciousness. Luke was shaking now, his vision blurred by unbidden tears while a drone of voices began to overtake the hangar. Luke was deaf to it. This was the same face he’d spent countless hours examining through every single holovid he could get his hands on. Those features were as ingrained in his mind as his own. Laying in that TIE fighter’s cockpit, alive and in the flesh, was his father. Anakin Skywalker.

TBC

 


	2. Ritual Sacrifice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, all! Thank you so much for the lovely reviews, favorites and follows! I'm so happy you liked the Prologue, and hope that you enjoy Chapter 1! This part was hard to write. I actually started by writing most of the second chapter, but then decided this part ought to go first. So here it is! I would really appreciate some feedback on this. Let me know what you think! Enjoy!

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**Chapter 2: Ritual Sacrifice**

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Moraband, ancient homeworld of the Sith Order.

The planet materialized like a phantom in front of the TIE fighter, dominating the whole of Darth Vader’s viewing screen. It was a dark upon dark silhouette, sinister and unnatural. For millennia it had served as the Sith Lords’ secret seat of power, from where they watched and schemed to subjugate the galaxy once again. Even after it was abandoned, the dark side of the Force remained supreme on the planet, and Vader could feel it cloaking him the moment he jumped out of light speed.

The dark lord regarded the shadowed world, unable to repel a sudden wave of foreboding.

Palpatine was waiting for him on the surface. He could already sense his master’s undeniable presence rising from the planet.

The Emperor had summoned his apprentice to Moraband just a few hours before, calling Vader away from his fleet and even pausing his hunt for the hidden rebels. However, he never provided any reason why. The aging monarch had simply commanded the younger man to attend to him in the Outer Rim planet immediately, stating only that it was in Vader’s best interest to be prompt.

Of course, the former Jedi had left the Executor without delay to obey his master, unsure as he was of the other Sith’s intentions.

It was odd that Palpatine had returned to Moraband. The Emperor rarely ever left Coruscant as of late, preferring to cloister himself in his palace where he could be immersed in his study of the dark side. Vader had not come face to face with his master even once since the destruction of the Death Star almost a year ago. The whole of their interaction had been limited to holo transmissions and curt messages, which Vader had concluded was another way for Palpatine to punish him for his failure at Yavin. The subtle threats and obvious scrutiny had been merely the start of his master’s reprisal. The emperor lost a great deal of faith in his apprentice, and he was making sure that the other Sith felt the weight of his displeasure. Now he summons Vader to the ancient stronghold of the Sith, after months of malice and distrust, without any explanation. It was ominously suspect.

Vader gripped his controls and directed his star fighter down towards the planet, prepared for whatever awaited him once he was back in his master’s presence. Whatever the emperor’s intentions were, he would find out soon enough. He was ready for any hidden scheme or convoluted plot, but it aggravated the dark lord immensely.

He had a task he needed to complete, one that had absorbed him for months. Ever since he discovered the identity of the rebel pilot who destroyed the Death Star, Vader had devoted all of his time and focus to hunting down the boy. Every minute he spent away from his fleet was a minute he could have spent searching for his son.

Luke.

The child that was stolen from him by the Jedi. The child he was determined to reclaim. Obi-wan had already paid the price for his foulest treachery. The old fool must have kept the boy hidden away for years, filling his head with poisonous lies.

Did Luke even know about his father? Had Kenobi denied him the truth about his heritage?

It did not matter, the Sith lord himself. In due time, everything would be set right. Luke was good at disappearing with his rebel friends, but it was only a matter of time before their paths crossed again. Vader was sure of it, and this time, he would not let his son escape his grasp.

_He’s only a boy._

Vader’s head jerked upwards, and he quickly crushed the stray thought. He would not let foolish sentiments get in the way of his plans.

Such things belonged in past life, to the fool he had once been. But the dark side had made him stronger than that. He was free of such weakness. If Luke refused his offer, then Vader would not hesitate to dispose of him.

_Never_  .

His grip tightened around the fighter’s controls. These wretched thoughts were becoming more and more disturbing. He should be above this frailty of mind.

It suddenly occurred to him that the emperor’s summoning might have something to do with the boy. No doubt Palpatine saw the young man as a threat, powerful as he promised to be, but Vader could not be sure if his Master had learned of the pilot’s real name.

The former Jedi had already decided to keep his child’s existence a secret for as long as possible. After all, the boy could have easily been the offspring of a rogue Jedi who survived the Purges, just like the countless others Vader had exterminated over the years. If Palpatine were to find out the truth, then he would undoubtedly want to take possession the child of Skywalker, either to destroy him, or mold him for his own purposes. Vader would never allow this to happen. His son would be his, and no one else’s. He would destroy the boy himself before letting him fall into the hands of the emperor. 

_I will never hurt him!_

Vader scoffed. Taking command of his thoughts, the dark lord his descent. A sea of sharp peaks and dust clouds stretched as far as the eye could see, giving the planet a distinctly hostile aspect. Maneuvering his TIE fighter between merciless ridges and cliffs, Vader finally reached his destination. The fabled Valley of the Dark Lords, the final resting place of countless Sith of the bygone past. At the mouth of the valley stood a looming structure of dark stone, and it was there that Vader was headed: the ancient Sith Temple.

Years of abandonment had made a ruin of the once towering complex, but it was no less imposing that it had been a thousand years before. Carved right into the mountain itself, its tall spires and bold statues framed a monumental facade. Even in its ravaged state, it looked every bit a bastion of the Sith Order, as indomitable as the dark side itself.

Vader took no comfort in the notion. An unknown apprehension had taken hold of him, just as he landed his ship on the large dust covered court before the temple. The emperor’s personal shuttle was standing nearby, surrounded by a number of his Red Guards. Palpatine would be alone inside, waiting for him.

The former Jedi couldn’t help but freeze in an instant of hesitation, but he quickly banished his fears.

The guards watched as Vader exited his ship, deathly still in their appointed posts. The Sith lord did not spare them a second glance, and began to climb the sheer steps up to the massive jaws of the the Temple’s entrance. Clouds of dust were buffeting his cape, and the dim red was beginning to set on the horizon by the time he entered the structure, plunging the valley into a thick darkness.

Once inside, Vader found himself in the vast colonnade that was the great hall, where countless pillars stretched into the shadows of the inner temple. Those pillars seemed to beckon him forwards, deep into the depths of the chamber. 

Suddenly, an emotion he barely recognized as dread seeped into Vader’s core. Even as he stepped into the darkened hall, his heels tapping on the stone floor, he was gripped by a desperation to leave this place as soon as possible.

He clenched his fists. When had he become such a coward? 

He was a dark lord of the Sith, a master of the dark side of the Force. Whatever awaited him in the bowels of these forsaken ruins, he would conquer it. Whatever vicious trial the emperor had devised for him, he would endure it, as he always had. He was no coward. Everything he had ever feared had been destroyed long ago. He would never become that wretched weakling again.

Urged on by his fury, he hastened his step into the dark chamber.

What little light was left outside did not reached this deep into the cavernous hall, but Vader’s optics could see through the shadows just as well. He could feel the Force pulsing with a formidable presence. That’s when he saw a faint light, and an unmistakable robed figure materialized from the dark.

Emperor Palpatine stood by the large central column, holding his wooden cane in a pale, gnarled hand. There was a glowing sphere floating in the air beside him, creating a reddish dome of illumination. Despite the torch, the black clad monarch seemed to exude a deeper darkness than the one surrounding him, almost like the dim glow from the sphere was being devoured by his mere presence. He stood there as one with the shadows, watching as his apprentice entered the dome of red light and immediately fell to his knee.

The emperor allowed the silence to stretch between them for a while, regarding the other Sith before him with an unreadable expression.

“Lord Vader,” he said finally, his rasping voice echoing against the columns. “Welcome to the Citadel.”

Vader kept his head bowed as he spoke. “Master. I came as soon as you commanded. What is thy bidding?”

Palpatine fell silent again as he brought his cane forward and grasped it in both his hands. His features remained illegible, but his voice took on a dangerously mild tone. “I can sense you are uneasy, my friend,” he said. “You are in a hurry to leave this planet. Is there something you would rather be doing than seeing to an old man’s wishes?”

Vader did not answer, but he did strengthen his mental barriers while staying motionless on the stone floor. He could not allow the other Sith to discover the recent turbulence in his thoughts.   

Palpatine took a step closer to him. “You would do well to remember what your haste has already cost you, my apprentice. It may someday prove to be your undoing.”

Vader raised his head and met the emperor’s gaze then. “There have been reports that the rebels are regrouping,” he said hastily by way of explanation. “It is imperative that we act quickly. They may be preparing to move to a new secret base.” 

“And what makes you so certain that you will locate them now, when you have failed to do so for the past year?”

Vader resisted the urge to clench his fists. It seemed that his Master’s retribution was far from over. After months of continuous penance, the apprentice had not yet seen the end of Darth Sidious’ wrath.

“They cannot hide forever,” he stated firmly, almost pleadingly. “I will not fail you again, my Master. Soon, I will crush the rebels and restore order to the galaxy. They can never hope to resist the full might of the Empire.”

Those promises echoed through the great hall like a thunderstorm, only to dissolve into the shadows a moment later. Palpatine’s eyes had become hooded as he listened to the other Sith, and the corners of his mouth pinched upward in a tight sneer. There was a hidden weapon in that sinister look, and Vader could only brace himself for it to strike.

“And what of the rebel pilot responsible for your failure? The one who destroyed our ultimate weapon.”

A cold fire ran through what was left of Vader’s flesh. He should have realized. He could no longer doubt that Palpatine had discovered the truth of the pilot’s identity. The emperor knew the boy was Vader’s own offspring, but what did he mean to do with the information? What did he mean for Vader to do?

The other Sith had him pinned with his molten amber eyes, and Vader had to lower his own before responding.

“Capturing the pilot who destroyed the Death Star is our top priority,” he said carefully. “It won’t be long before he falls into our grasps, along with the rest of the Rebel Alliance. He will not escape me again.”    

It was a perilous answer, but not a false one. If Palpatine was expecting the boy to be delivered to him, then Vader would have to act accordingly for the time being. Anything else would be futile and dangerous. Luke’s fate would be decided soon enough.

_You will not harm my son. He’s only a child._

Vader’s eyes narrowed behind his mask. Clenching his jaw, he raised his mental shields even higher in a frantic attempt to hide his thoughts from the emperor. Those stray feelings again. They were driving him mad with contempt, and a seething self-hate was beginning to take hold of him. Why could he not extinguish these wretched emotions?

Vader looked up at his master.

Palpatine was standing above him, his twisted hands resting on the handle of his cane. He seemed to be considering something carefully, weighing all the possibilities of an unknown scheme. Vader’s eyes narrowed behind the mask. It was impossible to gage what the old monarch was thinking, but his voice was grave when he finally spoke.

“I have no doubt of that, Lord Vader,” he stated, motioning for the other to stand.

Hesitating for just a moment, the apprentice rose slowly off the ground, uncertain of the emperor’s words. But the other Sith continued to speak before he could ponder his intent.

“Your fervor is to be commended. But that is not why I summoned you here.”

Curiosity peeked over Vader’s suspicion, even despite himself. “Then why?”

The massive chamber fell into an eerie silence while the emperor paused, almost like he was contemplating the answer to Vader’s question. The only sound came from Vader’s respirator, the steady hiss reverberating against the surrounding pillars. After a while, Palpatine’s gaze drifted into the darkness around them.

“I have felt a great disturbance,” he said at last. “A growing turmoil in the Force.”

Vader was confused. This was not what he had expected. “Turmoil? I have not—”

Palpatine lifted a hand, silencing him. “Oh, I believe you have sensed it, my young apprentice,” he rasped, turning back to look Vader right in his optics. “Indeed, I do.”

The glint in the emperor’s eyes had become vicious. Vader was at a loss, but the dread that had settled in his core from the moment he stepped inside the temple was magnified by that look. He had lost what little grip he’d had over the exchange. He could no longer predict what would come of this bizarre encounter, leaving him utterly exposed to whatever the emperor had in store.  

Palpatine seemed please. A wickedly gratified air had settled upon him as he slowly turned his back on his apprentice and began to walk away, moving between the columns towards the edge of the great hall. The floating sphere followed close behind him, casting a frozen Vader back into darkness.

Warily, the former Jedi allowed himself a moment to gather his wits. Palpatine had foreseen something, that much was clear. Whatever it was, he had summoned him away from his station and isolated him in this abandoned temple because of it. That turmoil he spoke of… Vader decided it might have little to do with the rebel pilot, but what else could Palpatine have detected? What other secrets could he have discovered? Could he possibly have—

No. Unthinkable. How could the Sith Master sense what wasn’t there? There was no turmoil in him.

His mind whirling with endlessly dire possibilities, younger dark lord fell into step after his master. There was only one way of knowing the emperor’s true intentions, and that was to wait. Wait and see how this played out. He had no choice but to follow. Even as the

His long strides brought him to the emperor’s side effortlessly, and they both ventured deeper into the halls of ancient temple. Great carvings and statues rose around them, depicting long dead Sith lords and forgotten battles against the Jedi. Vader could feel the weight of those lifeless eyes upon him, almost like the effigies were violently rejecting his presence. He could have sworn he heard them whisper savagely to one another as he walked passed, turning their dead, hateful eyes towards him like a physical attack. Their voices became stronger and stronger, until he finally recognized the vile name they were snarling all at once. 

_Jedi… Jedi… Jedi..._

He could have roared back in furious denial, but the emperor’s voice suddenly hushed the maddening whispers.

“Magnificent, is it not?” he said, prompting Vader to glance down at him. His master’s gaze was fixed on a large archway ahead of them, which seemed to lead to an adjacent chamber.

“This place was once the heart of the Sith Order, a fortress of the dark side for over a thousand years,” continued Palpatine. “It is from here that our forefathers embarked on their campaign for galactic conquest. But those days are long gone. Apart from you and I, these ruins are all that remain of that once glorious legacy.”

They crossed the archway while Palpatine continued his discourse, and found themselves in a second hall. Free from the columns oppressing, the red light from the sphere extended farther into the chamber. This one was long and vaulted, the high black walls stretching towards what looked like an altar at the end of the chamber, with fours standing stones around a middle. The very air in this place pulsated with the power of the dark side. It covered every surface and empty space around them like a tempest. Vader had only felt this sort of profane energy once before, on the night he led the attack on the Jedi temple and massacred his former allies.

Palpatine walked down the center of the chamber, basking in the flood of darkness saturating the air he breathed.

“The ancient Sith crumbled,” he said, almost gliding towards the altar. “Yet their great Temple still stands. Where countless Sith lords have perished over untold generations, this bastion has endured, defiant of all that would destroy it. Do you know how it has survived for so long, Lord Vader?”

Vader was frozen under the archway, his fingers flexing with uncertainty. Nothing in his experience with the emperor could make sense of what he was being asked. His foreboding intensified as it occurred to him that his master did not mean for the both of them to leave this chamber alive. But he remained silent, even when the foul whispers from the dead Sith began to echo behind him once again. 

_Jedi… Jedi… Die Jedi…_

The emperor had reached the altar by then, and he laid his hands softly upon the standing stones in something akin to reverence. Vader could feel how the tempest of darkness coiled around the elder Sith when he answered his own question.

“It survives because it is impenetrable,” the hoarse voice bellowed across the hall. “The Citadel clings to the dark side relentlessly, and it extinguishes every last sliver of light that threatens to undo it. It has no turmoil; no weaknesses in the Force. In a sense, it has become your antithesis, Lord Vader.”

Those words bludgeoned Vader with the force of his deepest shame. They deafened him with the vile truth they carried. His greatest fear was manifesting right in front of his eyes. He finally broke free from his stupor and took a desperate step forward. “Master, I don’t—”

“You will not speak!” Sidious roared, turning to face his apprentice. Ire radiated from him, along with a strange sort of disillusionment, but this was overpowered by his livid grimace.

“You are damaged, old friend,” he said, holding out his hand for Vader to come closer.

Every fiber of his being rebelled against the request, but still the apprentice somehow came forward, compelled by an unnamable force. The shock that Palpatine knew of his inner chaos had sapped his resolve. His master watched him as he approached the altar. It seemed to take forever, but Vader finally came to stand before the emperor, feeling his eyes as sharply as those of the dead Sith from the carvings. Absently, he noticed the ominous dark marks staining the ground between the standing stones.

Palpatine continued to speak, sneering beneath his cowl. “It is useless to deny it. For years now, I have felt the tendrils of the Jedi you once were. I knew it was never vanquished, not completely. But it gave you power. It intensified the hate that governed your soul. As long as it remained so, it was to our advantage. Your scorn for Anakin Skywalker’s weakness became your greatest strength. It made you the paragon of the dark side, fierce and merciless, just as I had foreseen before I gave you your name. What has changed, my apprentice?”

_You lied to me. My child was alive_. _My son is alive._

Vader struggled to banish the stray thoughts, knowing it was futile. He was too weak. He had always been too weak. Palpatine could clearly see it, but he would still deny the obvious truth. “Master, my allegiance to the dark side remains as unyielding as ever. Skywalker has no power over me. I destroyed him long ago.”

The look the emperor gave him was almost pitifully. “You are blinded by fanciful delusions, Lord Vader,” he said. “Your inability to find the rebel pilot is proof that your connection to the dark side is diminished. He is a mere foolish boy, and yet he manages to evade you.”

_I’ll die before I let you hurt him._  

Vader clenched his fists. “The boy is strong with the Force, but he will not escape me again.” 

Any passion he had felt before had bled from Vader’s voice. Only now he realized it was the uncertainty of his feelings for the boy that was debilitating him. The discovery of his child had awakened something within him, something he had tried to destroy years ago. Something he had left for dead. The idea horrified him. It seized his throat in a vice grip, stealing his very breath.

Palpatine’s crooked smile told how he could feel everything going in in the other’s mind. “You presume too much, my ill-fated apprentice. Nothing is certain but through the dark side,” he said, stepping around Vader like a predator. “I’ve had a vision. And in that vision, you are the one who is destroyed by Skywalker. The Jedi is still very much alive. All these years, you have failed to fully devour him. Instead, he has created a breach in your conviction. I can sense it even now. In time, that breach will become a festering wound, stripping you of all power and strength of will. It will annihilate you. That is your fate.”

_Just punishment._ _I deserve to die._

Vader shook his head, trying to convince himself even more than his master. For so long he had fought to quench the feeble remnants of his wretched past. Everything that Skywalker stood for, he had strived abolished. His shame. His regret. Had it all been for nothing? After all these years, was he still the same worthless Jedi?

“No. That cannot be,” he said, more to convince himself than anyone else.  

Palpatine was behind him now, blocking the way to the exit, his shadow falling over Vader like a suffocating shroud. “It is inevitable,” came the harsh voice. “You have only yourself to blame, my friend. It is you who clings to Anakin Skywalker.”

“Skywalker was weak! He was nothing! His name no longer has any meaning for me!” Vader screamed into the altar before him, his words sounding hollow even as they thundered over the hall.

He could not accept it. Darth Vader had destroyed the Jedi, he told himself. He had rid himself of that miserable coward they once called the Hero With No Fear. There was nothing left of him but a worthless child. Vader’s desperation was such that it shook the dark walls around them, and large chunks from the vaulted ceiling collapsed to the stone below with a loud crash, sending up clouds of dust.

Palpatine reveled silently as he watched. Everything he had planned was falling perfectly into place. All he had to do was wait until the last of the violent upsurge in the Force died down, while Vader continued to breath heavily between the standing stones.

Once the dust had settled and his apprentice had regained a semblance of control, the emperor spoke again. This time, he made sure to infuse his words with a touch of melancholy. “So you say, but it is clear now that you’ve allowed feeble sensitivity to cloud your judgment,” he lamented, holding his cane tightly between both hands. “It will only lead to your ruin.”

Vader remained motionless. The Force was still spiraling with the strength his hate and despair, all of it directed at none but himself. After what seemed like an eternity, he slowly turned around to face Sidious.

“Master, what can I do?” he asked.

Palpatine leered, sensing the single-minded purpose that had seized his Vader’s mind. There would be no stopping his design now. Nothing could undo his machination.

“It was the Jedi who forced these shackles upon you,” said the aging monarch, stepping forward once again. He knew, there was no need to block the passage to the archway anymore. Instead, he circled around the standing stones until he was across from Vader, with nothing bit the dark stains on the ground between them. “If you truly wish to be free, then there may be a way to annihilate what is left of your former self. That is why I summoned you to Moraband, my old friend.”

Vader watched him, willing to go to any lengths to break those shackles. His weakness would not rule him. He would be all powerful. “Tell me.”

The plea hung heavily in the putrid air of the chamber. It bled into stone walls and unsettled the gray dust on the ground, quietly marking the beginnings an unknown fate.

Palpatine’s face split in the grotesque pervasion of a smile. Raising his bony hand, he pressed his fingers into the black stones upon the ancient altar.

“The ancient Sith who ruled this temple had a particular affinity for Jedi sacrifice,” he said, eyes almost devouring the dark stains in the middle of the stones. “They also discovered the secrets to eradicate the flaws in their souls. It was a daring technique, practiced only by the wisest and most powerful of Sith lords, but it purged them of all weaknesses, reinforcing their dominion over the Force.”

Vader was enraptured, a savage hunger erupting from his very soul. If this technique was real... If he could undo his appalling defects... “What must I do?”

Palpatine regarded his apprentice with nothing short of triumph. He did not try to conceal it. Vader could see it clearly, but it not mater. He did not care. All that he desired was this ultimate vindication that he promised. Everything else could burn in his wake. 

At last, Palpatine motioned to the center of the stone circle, wordlessly urging Vader to step into. His yellow eyes were piercing through red glow of the torch. “Extinguish the light that weakens you, and Anakin Skywalker will be no more. 

Vader’s would have ripped his own heart out. He would have crushed the skulls of every last rebel fighter in the galaxy with his bare hands, and flung himself back into the hellish fire pits of Mustafar without a second thought, if that was what it took to annihilate the shadow of Skywalker.   

That was the vow the made there, in the heart the ancient Sith Temple of Moraband.

And so, the Sith lord finally stepped into the execution ring, tramping carelessly over the blood stains of hundreds of murdered Jedi.

 

**TBC...**


	3. The Redemption

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, guys! I'm in shock at the response to this story. Thank you so much for the wonderful reviews! I'm just thrilled that you guys are enjoying it. I also appreciate the feedback and those of you who pointed out any grammatical mistakes. Please, keep doing that. I'm the worst proof reader ever :P Anyway, here's Chapter 2. Hope you all like it!. :3

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 **II**  
**The Redemption**

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Luke glanced up when the lights were dimmed, indicating the start of another night cycle on board the Alliance's medical frigate. He paid it no mind. He simply switched on the bedside lamp, casting a soft glow over the observation room, and resumed his silent vigil. Just like the previous two nights, the would be Jedi had no intention of going to sleep. Even when his body began to protest with exhaustion, rest was the farthest thing from his mind. Instead, he occupied himself by watching the shadows play over his father's face as he lay perfectly still on the bed.

Luke was mesmerized by that face, eagerly soaking up every last little detail that he could.

Anakin Skywalker was a handsome man, just as his son had always imagined him. He had strong and noble features, with only the slightest touch of gray upon his temples. A thin scar ran over his right eye, attesting to a life spent as a warrior. Even though he must have been in his early forties, Anakin's face was quite smooth and youthful, with little more than a few faint lines at the edge of his eyes.

At first, Luke couldn't help but feel a rush of glee every time he noticed a trait that he shared with his father. They both had blond hair and clefts on their chins, and the realization that they looked so much alike had filled him with childlike pride. That alone would have enough to keep him awake, but all of his pleasant musings had long been crushed by much grimmer thoughts. The mere idea of sleep had been banished from his mind for days. He was too riled up, too choked with worry. How could he possibly think of rest? Everything he ever thought possible was in tatters. His entire life had been turned upside down. How would he ever sleep again when his father was right in front of him, lying unconscious on a medical bed?

The medical droids had told him to be patient.

"General Skywalker's condition is critical," JD-9 had explained, right after Anakin had been brought onboard the Redemption for emergency treatment. "The trauma he's sustained is severe and extensive. It is imperative that they proceed with caution, or we might cause further damage."

"But, why?" Luke had asked, pale faced and clutching Leia's hand in a terrified grip. "What's wrong with him?"

His frantic eyes were glued to the door of the emergency unit, where the other droids had rushed his father away.

JD-9 continued in that calm mechanical voice, and Luke felt his knees buckle. "The electric shock alone should have been enough to kill a man," it said, and the young commander would have surely dropped if Leia had not been holding him steady. "We might be able to isolate the damage, but that is just one of the patient's injuries. We've detected several lesions and fractures, and there's also the seared stab wound on his shoulder. He will require immediate surgery, if we are to avoid any serious complications."

That's when Luke first noticed the tears streaking down his cheeks. He didn't bother wiping them away. "When will he wake up?"

"I'm sorry, but that is impossible to say," it said, using its pincers to gesture in apology. "We will do everything we can to expedite his recovery, but we must ask you to be patient."

That was three days ago. Three days of waiting in vain.

Now Anakin was in the intensive care unit, looking utterly helpless, covered only by a white hospital sheet and a clutter of bacta patches. An oxygen mask had been pressed over his face, and several sensors were attached all over his arms. Those sensors would beep softly every now and then, sending data to the medical droids running the unit and slowly driving Luke to the brink of madness.

He had come to hate that noise. It was unbearably static and unchanging, just like Anakin's condition. Feeling useless, Luke continued to watch as his father's chest heaved with each labored breath. That was all he'd done for the past three days. It was all he could do. Sometimes he watched from the chair the medical staff had provided, his legs shaking all the while with burning anxiety. Other times, when he couldn't stand to sit any longer, he watched from the foot of the medical cot. But most often, he watched from the floor next to the bed, kneeling on the cold tile and clutching his father's limp fingers like they could be snatched away from him at any moment.

Whether he was crying or grinning like a fool while doing it, both of which he'd become increasingly prone to do, Luke kept watch over Anakin prone form, refusing to be lured away from the medical ward for any reason.

Not that any of the staff even tried. They knew perfectly well who it was lying on that cot. The news had spread like wildfire within minutes of the mysterious patient's arrival. The Hero With No Fear; the fabled Jedi believed to be dead for the past two decades. It was beyond belief. But as awestruck as they all were by this incredible turn of events, none of them could even begin to imagine how his son must be feeling. Surely, they couldn't blame the young man for his manic behavior. So they let him be, even against regulation. They just didn't have the heart to separate the boy from his long lost parent.

Luke was grateful for the space. He was too overwhelmed to have to deal with irritable medics.

His heart felt like it was about to explode.

Just days ago, his deepest and most heartfelt wish had been granted. His father was alive. He was alive, and he was here. Luke couldn't stop telling himself that. How many times in his childhood had he not imagined this very scenario? It had been his most cherished fantasy when he was little, that Anakin would one day turn up at the Lars farmstead and say his aunt and uncle had been wrong all along. He wasn't actually dead, and he had come back for his young son after all those years they spent apart. Even when he got older, Luke had always found solace in that childish fancy. It kept him going when his prospects seemed most hopeless. Now it was all real.

Luke had never felt such pure joy as when he first saw his father inside that TIE fighter. He could swear his heart had stopped for a moment, overcharged with excitement. But that feeling didn't last long. By some cruel twist of fate, his wish had come with a terrible price, something dark and terrifying that Luke was still struggling to even acknowledge.

Biting his lip, he forced his gaze down to look over Anakin's body, taking in the extent of the damage once again. Even in the darkened room, he could still see the angry red streaks branching out across Anakin's skin, down his limbs and even up to his neck. According to the medics, the electrical discharge had not been outright lethal, but it was more than enough to cause some terrible harm. Not only did the red streaks indicate internal burns, but Anakin's heartbeat had been alarmingly erratic when they first brought him in. It was a wonder how they managed to prevent cardiac arrest. Luke's hands started to shake when he considered this. His father had been electrocuted, tortured to within an inch of his life. Just the thought of it filled Luke with harrowing nausea, but he shoved the idea to the very back of his mind, not yet ready to face it.

But he knew he would eventually have to face it, along with a heap of other things, especially if...when, his father woke up.

Taking a deep breath, the young man continued his difficult perusal. The next injuries he noted were the countless cuts and bruises, dominated by a large gash on the side of Anakin's head. When Luke had first seen it, the gash had been bleeding profusely, soaking the man's robe with angry scarlet. Like the cuts and fractures, that had been treated and wrapped in bacta bandages. Thankfully, those had not been terribly serious.

But what arrested Luke's attention most of all, what truly knocked his breath away, was the cauterized stab wound on his father's shoulder. It had been a gaping scorch mark, going right through flesh and bone, and ripping clear out his back. The medical droids had already closed it during surgery, but the sight of it still turned Luke's stomach. It was by far the most telling of all of Anakin's injuries. The droids couldn't be sure, but Luke knew without a doubt that this wound had been made with a lightsaber.

He'd seen that kind of injury before, during his brief time with Obi-wan. He recognized it instantly, and it sent his mind reeling in a single, hideous direction.

Vader.

Luke's insides flared at the name. It was always Vader. The monster. The source of all his grief. There no question in his mind. He knew Vader was the one responsible for his father's battered condition, and also for his absence from Luke's entire life.

Luke let go of his father's hand abruptly and bolted up off the floor, that familiar bile rising in his throat. He paced the small observation room, clenching and unclenching his fists while his thoughts raged inside him. The last few days had given him plenty of time to envision an endless string possibilities, each one more terrifying than the last. His father captured and at Vader's mercy, being held prisoner for years and years. The medics had told him there were signs of prolonged captivity: unhealthy pale skin, slight muscle atrophy, as well as malnutrition. It made perfect, agonizing sense.

Luke knew Vader hated the Jedi, and that he had spearheaded the Empire's campaign to wipe them out. Hundreds of Jedi had been killed by Vader's own brutal hand. Everyone knew that. Obi-wan believed Luke's father had been a victim of Vader's rampage, just like so many others, but now it seemed that the truth was far more sinister. The deranged fiend must have kept Anakin alive in secret. For almost twenty years.

Luke halted his pacing, eyes blurry with fresh tears. He looked back at the still form of his father, fighting to take control of his breathing. Twenty years. Why would Vader keep his enemy alive for so long? Just for spite? Just to make him suffer? What else did he have to gain from it, other than some sick pleasure? Luke shut his eyes, feeling himself shutter. That beast really was pure evil, he thought. There could be nothing but darkness beneath that horrible mask.

Raking his fingers through his hair, Luke dropped down into the chair next to the bed and reached for Anakin's hand again. He found it cold, and tried to warm it gently between his own, grateful he could at least do this much for him. It had taken Luke a long time to bring himself to touch his father, thinking it would somehow shatter the illusion and convince him that it was all just a dream. Now the younger Skywalker couldn't bear to go too long without grasping his Anakin's hand, or brushing the messy fringe from his forehead. The physical contact had become his lifeline, like he could somehow keep his father from fading away if he just held on to him.

Twenty years. Luke couldn't begin to imagine what his father must have endured for so long at the hands of his mortal enemy, while his son lived on utterly unaware that he was even alive. That was what hurt the most. All those times Luke had mourned him, idolized him, and dreamed about him, he had been alive, and in the clutches of a monster. It just tore him apart, shattering the raw joy he'd felt when he first saw Anakin onboard that TIE fighter. Unfortunately, this feeling only increased the longer his father remained unconscious.

Waiting was the worst torture. Powerless to do much else, Luke rested his head on the edge of the bed, rubbing his thumb softly over the back of Anakin's hand. He really was exhausted, but he couldn't bring himself to close his eyes.

Not for the first time, he focused hard and tried to reach his father through the Force, but there was nothing there to greet him but silence. He hadn't had much practice with this before, but he just couldn't stop trying. Once or twice, he was sure he'd felt a glimmer of something, like a gentle pressure on the edge of his mind, timid and faint. Perhaps it was his desperation playing tricks on him. He had no way of knowing for sure, but he wouldn't give up. Not until he heard his father's voice again. Not until he got him back for real.

None of this was fair. Why would the Force give him back his father just to dangle him out of reach a moment later? Luke felt like crying. But just when he was about to surrender to his grief, there came a soft knock on the room's viewing screen.

Rubbing his face hastily, Luke turned around to see Leia standing outside the glass panel of the observation room, with Han and Chewbacca right behind her. The three of them had been coming and going the whole time Luke had been cloistered in the medical ward with his father, offering as much the help and support they could muster. Luke had no idea what he would have done without Leia's kind words and Chewie's reassuring presence, or even Han's witty, yet mostly futile attempts to raise Luke's spirits. He probably would have gone insane.

Now, Leia offered him a gentle smile before motioning for the door, her eyes entreating him to come out.

Luke tried to return the smile, but found he didn't have the energy even for that. Sluggish in his exhaustion, he gave Anakin's hand a quick squeeze before standing up and lumbering to the exit of the medical room. Leia was grasping his arm comfortingly as soon as the door slid open.

"Hey," he said to her. Half his body was still in the doorway, not quite stepping out of the room.

"Luke, has there been any change?" Leia asked, looking over his shoulder at the man lying on the bed, her eyes shining with genuine concern.

Luke shook his head, turning to glance at his father as well. "No. Nothing's happened."

"Did you talk to the medics? What did they say?" Leia's voice was crisp and attentive, the way it always got when she wanted to find out the best way to fix a crisis.

Luke could only shrug. "That we have to wait," he said. "There's nothing else they can do. He has to wake up on his own."

Han crossed his arms over his chest, obviously dissatisfied with the answer. "What about a dip in a bacta tank? Wouldn't that fix him up?" he asked.

It was a logical suggestion, but Han didn't know all the details of Anakin's condition. Luke lowered his eyes dejectedly while he repeated the medical droid's explanations.

"The severe electrical shock removes the possibility of prolonged bacta treatment. It could do more harm than good. They can only apply a few bacta patches on the external injuries."

Han actually deflated when he heard this, sighing deeply and dropping his arms to his sides. Leia placed her hand on Luke's shoulder and squeezed.

"I'm sure he'll be fine, Luke," she said. "He's Anakin Skywalker. They used to say he was indestructible during the Clone Wars. And I believe that now more than ever. The Alliance won't spare any expense in his recovery. We owe him a great deal for everything he did in service to the Republic."

Luke finally smiled at this, and raised his own hand to cover the princess's. "Thanks, Leia. I really appreciate that."

The gloom of their conversation having lifted somewhat, Chewbacca chose this moment to speak, gesturing towards Anakin on the other side of the glass panel as he growled.

Han chuckled and pointed at the Wookie. "Yeah, Chewie's not kidding. Everyone's already talking about 'em. The pilots have been going crazy with the news that Skywalker's back. It spread like wildfire."

Luke laughed a little, filial pride swelling inside him once again. "Yeah, I bet. It's not every day that a dead war hero suddenly drops out of the sky."

The four friends smiled and fell into a comfortable silence. Luke was leaning heavily against the doorframe. Leia watched him carefully, noting the dark circles under his eyes and his drooping posture. He looked just terrible, and this worried her immensely.

"Do you need anything?" she asked pointedly. "Have you been sleeping at all?"

Luke shrugged, glancing back at his father's bed. "I'm alright. I don't want to leave him alone."

Leia frowned, clearly displeased. In the months they had spent together after he rescued her from the Death Star, she had found the best friend she'd ever had in the former farm boy. But for the past three days, she had watched her friend slipping farther and farther into despair. Beyond offering what comfort she could, it really hurt her not knowing what else she could do to help. But Luke was falling apart right in front of her eyes, and she wouldn't allow that happen.

"Luke, please," she said firmly. "You won't be of much help to him if you drop from exhaustion. You need to rest. Go take a nap."

Luke gawked at Leia like he didn't quite understand her suggestion. Then he looked about ready to volt back into the room and lock the door. Fortunately, Han stepped in to back Leia up.

"Yeah. Come on, kid," he said, gently taking hold of the younger man's arm before he could slip away. "Let's go find you a bed."

Chewbacca growled animatedly, to which Han nodded in agreement.

"Right, Chewie. And some food."

Luke was glancing back at Anakin, visibly alarmed by the prospect of leaving him. "But…I don't—"

"It's alright, Luke," said Leia, trying to ease his mind somehow. An idea suddenly occurred to her, and she only hoped it would be enough to reassure her troubled friend. "I'll stay with him, if you want."

She could at least do this much for Luke, and for Anakin.

Her own father had always spoken highly of the famed Jedi knight, telling her stories of his great deeds in selfless service to the Old Republic. Those tales had led a young Leia to see the elder Skywalker as a hero to admire and look up to. Now she was compelled to help him, not just because he was a Jedi, but because he was Luke's father; a father that had been miraculously restored to him from the grave, in a way that Leia could only dream about for herself.

An uncertain stillness had settled in the hallway, and she smiled ruefully at Luke, but with no less sincerity. He was watching her from the doorframe, his sunken eyes so full of anxiety and hesitation. No doubt, he was imagining every conceivable scenario that might happen the moment he set foot outside of that room, as likely or unlikely as they could be. But slowly, as the silence stretched between them, Leia's kind gaze began to break through the fog of his dread, gently reminding him of his own fatigue and need to rest.

Then Han threw his arm around Luke's shoulders. "Kid, don't make me get Chewie to lug you off and tuck you into bed," he cautioned, even if his usual snarky tone was rather softened by honest concern. "The princess here can keep an eye on your old man."

Luke glance up at the smuggler, fully aware that the older man was ready to go through with his well-meaning threat. Eventually, he sighed in acceptance and leaned into Han, finally letting the weight of the last three days wash over him.

"Okay," he said.

They were right. There was no sense in driving himself to the brink of collapse. How would he be able to look after his father if he could barely keep his eyes open? It would be best if he got some sleep. He could rely on his friends to help him, and some food sounded great.

"Atta' boy," Han gave Luke's shoulder a little friendly shake and steered him away from the door.

"I'll call you right away if anything happens," promised Leia, quite relieved that Luke was getting some rest.

Luke nodded, his eyes already drooping despite himself. "Thanks."

After a parting glance towards his father, he allowed Han to herd him down the hallway in search of an empty bed.

Unable to resist the urge, he reached out and tried to touch Anakin's mind through the Force again, but still there was nothing between them but silence. Luke huffed in frustration. Maybe once he was better rested, he would be able to concentrate properly and figure this out. He wasn't thinking clearly through the fog of his fatigue, but he wouldn't stop trying. He wouldn't let his father go. Not ever again.

Those thoughts continued to ring through his mind while Han led him out of the intensive care unit. Chewbacca followed them closely, leaving Leia behind with Anakin.

The princess waited until her friends disappeared through the doors at the end of the hallway before turning to look at the unconscious Jedi, the man from her childhood stories. It frightened her how small and helpless he looked lying motionless in that room, covered with wires and bandages from head to toe. This was General Anakin Skywalker, one of the greatest warriors the Old Republic had ever seen, and the Empire had made cruel sport of him like he was nothing but a meager plaything. Just thinking about it sent an outraged fury deep into her heart. It was appalling how fanatical the Empire was in its quest to extinguish everything good that had come from the Republic, that they would do something like this to a man that had once been a symbol of hope and courage for the people of the galaxy.

Leia exhaled slowly, bringing her anger back under control, and finally stepped into the observation room. The smell of bacta and antiseptic came over her like a blanket. She sat down gingerly on the chair next to the bed and began her quiet vigil, her eyes transfixed by the form under the sheets.

Time passed by without her noticing. She was entirely captivated by the General's face, still amazed at how much Luke resembled his father. And it wasn't just their golden hair or the identical shape of their lips. There was something in the mere presence of both Skywalkers that filled Leia with a comforting ease, something strong and mysterious that she simply couldn't name.

"Please wake up," she heard herself say.

Unsurprisingly, there was no answer from the comatose man, and she immediately felt silly for having spoken at all. Nevertheless, her words kept flowing out of her like a river, and she was unable to stop them.

"Your son is so worried. He's hardly left your side for days," she continued. There was a sense of urgency in her voice now, and she leaned forward slightly as if he might be able hear her better.

"My father's dead" she murmured. "He was killed by the Empire. I had to watch while it happened, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Luke helped me. I don't know what I would have done without him. He understood what it felt like to lose…to lose your…"

Her eyes were brimming with tears now, as they usually did whenever she thought about Bail in private. She still found it hard to talk about what happened, and avoided the painful subject as much as she could. But it seemed important now somehow. On a fierce whim, she reached out to stroke the General's arm tenderly with the back her fingers, watching the strong lines of his face under the white light of the medical ward.

"I don't know how you found Luke," she told him softly. "But I do know you didn't come back just so he can watch you die. It's just not fair. You can't let them take you away from him. Not again. So please…. Please, wake up."

The tears streamed silently down Leia's cheeks, all the while she continued stroking Anakin's arm with the back of her fingers. It seemed the soft touch brought her a bit of comfort, so she pressed her hand more firmly over the sleeping Jedi's. She didn't make a sound while she cried, and the silence in the room was almost cruel, broken only by the occasional beep from the medical equipment.

After a while, the young rebel leader closed her eyes, willing the tears to stop. This grief she felt was startling. She was here to help Luke in his time of need, not wallow in her own sorrow.

She pulled her hand away and brought it to her lap, consciously drawing from her training as a politician to rein in her wayward emotions. Why had she done that? This wasn't right. She was here to watch over the General. She shouldn't take advantage. Her feelings didn't have a place here, and she had no right to seek comfort from Luke's father. That was nothing if not selfish.

" _Father?"_

Leia started. She whipped her head from side to side, but there was no one there. She could have sworn she heard...someone. Then, just moments after her hand had left his, she noticed the smallest twitch coming from Anakin's fingers.

* * *

After sticking his head into every open door they came across, Han finally found and commandeered an empty room in the Redemption's medics' ward. He ushered Luke inside and made him to lie down while he went to fetch some dinner from the refectory. Chewbacca would stay outside the door so he could scare off anybody who tried to disturb him. Luke found no objections to this arrangement, and readily collapsed onto the narrow cot.

He was asleep just moments after his head touched the pillow. He had only wanted to rest his eyes until Han came back with the food, but the accumulated weariness from the last few days had finally taken its toll on him. His body was limp with exhaustion, and it was only seconds before he was out like a light, finally surrendering to the comforting promise of oblivion.

His dreams were not restful, though, and his troubled mind continued to bombard him with a storm of haunting images even in sleep.

He saw himself as a young boy on Tatooine, wandering the sand dunes all alone. He was lost, and a feeling of helplessness and fear was quickly overwhelming his tiny body. There was nothing to guide him back home, nothing to see but empty desert in every direction. There was no one to help him. The two suns were beginning to set on the horizon, and a terrible anguish settled in his heart. It would be nighttime soon, and he knew that the cold darkness would come to devour him when the light was all gone. He could already see it reaching for him from the distance.

"Father..." he heard his own childish voice tremble, as big desperate tears started to roll down his face. "Where are you?"

His only answer was the biting wind of the desert night, but just as the boy crumbled to the sand in a heap of frightened sobs, the dreamscape shifted to another dark place. He recognized the bowels of the Death Star immediately, but he knew that was impossible. The Death Star was gone. He destroyed it! Yet there he was. His now grown self was standing in what seemed like one of the battle station's hallways, but it was completely deserted. The silence was deafening, and Luke couldn't help but wonder if he was the only living thing left in the entire station.

He began to walk, not certain of where he was headed, but knowing that he had to find...something. There was an urgent pull in his mind, drawing him forward like a light in the dark. It was

His footsteps echoed loudly down the empty corridor. With all that noise, he was sure that a battalion of stormtroopers was going to turn the corner and spot him any second.

_Luke..._

He stopped. "Father?"

There was no reply, but he knew what he'd heard. Luke began to run, not caring that his feet were now clanging on the metal floor, until suddenly it wasn't metal anymore. The Death Star shifted around him, and he a saw huge dark chamber stretch out before him. Horrible faces made of stone were surrounding him. He was walking among them, his path lit by the reddish light from a single lamp.

 _Jedi... Jedi... Jedi..._  
  
He twisted around, searching for the source of the voices. Then he realized with a terrified start that they were coming from the grisly stone faces carved into the columns.

_Die Jedi..._

He backed away slowly, his hand reaching instinctively for his father's lightsaber, until his back hit something cold and solid. Terror mounting, he turned slowly and found a strange circle of large stones behind him. A figure lay crumpled in the center, and Luke gave a shout when he recognized Anakin's twisted form.

"Father!" He fell to his knees next to him. The man lay motionless, and Luke gathered him into his arms as gently as he could. Anakin's head rolled limply against his chest, bruises and cuts all over his skin.

Luke breathed in sharply, horrified by the state of his father. He tried shaking him, frantically hoping for any sign of life. Then, to his utter relief, Anakin's brows creased together, his lips parting in a painful, breathy groan that barely made a sound.

Luke's eyes brightened. "Father?"

He breathed easy again when Anakin stirred weakly in his arms, seemingly starting to wake. But before he could, a menacing red glare fell over them both. Luke whipped his head around and saw a familiar silhouette emerging from the shadows, darker than all the blackness around them. Its back was hunched forward like a stalking beast, a scarlet lightsaber glowing threateningly at its side.

The entire chamber seemed to tremble as it breathed, and Luke felt his heart drop into a well of ice.

"No!" he shouted, grasping for his own lightsaber as Darth Vader strode towards them. Jumping to his feet, he leveled the weapon at the black clad figure, standing protectively in front of Anakin. This monster had tormented his father for years, but not anymore. Luke wouldn't never let it happen again!

The sound of Vader's respirator was like a roar in his ears. It grew louder and louder as its source drew closer. The waves of hate emanating from the black depths of that mask were suffocating, pulsing with murderous intent. Luke's breath was wild, catching in his throat as he watched Vader raise his lightsaber high over his head.

Luke set his jaw, unflinching. "I won't let you hurt him."

Then the crimson blade fell with all the power of Vader's wrath. Luke raised his own saber and somehow managed to block the fatal crash of red. The strength behind the blow was inhuman, and the would be Jedi felt himself shaking with the effort of holding it back. Vader's mask loomed over him like a heartless ghoul, like one of the leering faces made of stone.

Luke clenched his teeth, desperately calling on every bit of strength he possessed. He had to find a way to stop him. He wouldn't let this beast touch his father ever again!

Then his whole world turned white as Vader shoved him back. Luke's head crashed into one of the stones forming the circle, and his lightsaber went flying out of his hand. He wheezed, trying to clear his vision. Once it did, he saw Vader coming towards him again, like a predator cornering its prey.

Luke reached for his blaster, but it wasn't in its usual place at his side. There was nothing there. He had nothing.

Panic settled in. Vader was almost on him. He was about to die. And then this monster would simply turn around and finish his father off, just days after he got him back.

"Damn you!" Luke vaulted away from the stone in a burst of feral strength, charging straight for Vader.

The black apparition lifted his lightsaber, ready to strike the finishing blow. But just as the red blade was crashing down, Vader froze, his arms suddenly locked above his head. Unaware, Luke plowed into the wall of dark cloth and armor, slamming his shoulder into Vader's chest as hard as he could. It left him dazed, but he rammed the much larger man right into the opposite stone around the circle. Vader shouted, and for a moment, Luke thought he might still have a chance. Then he was knocked back when Vader began to thrash violently.

Luke stumbled and fell, unable to recover from the impact. He lay there on the stone ground, waiting for the deadly blow that he knew would come, but it never did.

Instead of rushing his fallen foe, Vader was writhing against the side of the stone, unable to move. Luke watched as furious snarls started to come from behind the mask, only one of them making any sense.

"Skywalker!"

The name was uttered like a curse, with such scorching malice that it made Luke's blood run cold. That's when he felt the bright presence behind him. It burned hotter than Vader's frigid hate, warming Luke to his very core. He whirled around and met his eyes, radiant blue just like his own.

"Father."

Anakin knelt in the middle of the stones, ragged and heaving with great exertion. His right hand was stretched towards Vader, and even with his minimal training, Luke could feel the furious clash in the Force between the two men. It was a maelstrom of opposing powers, like nothing the young Jedi had ever felt before.

Vader went wild, fighting against the hold Anakin had on him like a madman. There was a shudder in the Force, and then the Sith took a heavy step forward, crushing through the other's defenses.

Anakin grimaced, his whole frame shaking visibly from the struggle. The onslaught of Vader's fury was too strong. Luke tried to move closer, desperate to help, but he stopped when his father turned a pair of stormy eyes to him in warning.

Vader tore away from the stone, taking another step towards them with a savage roar. Anakin gritted his teeth against the malicious strength, and fixed his eyes on his son.

"You need to go!" he yelled.

Luke recoiled, every inch of him rebelling against the idea. "I'm not leaving you here!" he screamed defiantly.

Vader took another step closer and hefted his lightsaber. Luke could feel the heat of that deadly blade as he clambered to reach his father. "Let me help you!" he yelled, grasping desperately at the other's shoulder.

Anakin's eyes soften then, shinning with a wave of unspoken emotion. "You already have," he said, even as his voice shook with the effort. He was smiling softly through the strain, and Luke was disarmed by that earnest look.

"It's alright," Anakin continued. "Just go."

The boy only shook his head and held on tighter. He couldn't let go. "But I—"

"Luke, I'll follow you. I promise. Just wake up!"

Luke started. His father's eyes had turned fierce, and they jolted something inside the younger Skywalker, like a buried memory suddenly reappearing in his mind. Vader was on top of them, ready to cut them down in a flash of red, a sheer mass of deadly shadows.

Anakin snarled at the dark vision. "Get out!"

The scream echoed through the chamber as Vader stroke. Luke moved blindly, throwing himself in front of Anakin, overwhelmed by the need to protect his father. Not again. This monster had already forced an entire lifetime between them. All those years that were stolen, all the things that might have been were suddenly flashing before his eyes and the boy wanted to wail in rage. He wouldn't let Vader tear his father away from him. Not again!

A burst of light, like the glare from an exploding star right in front of him, and then stillness.

Luke clung to Anakin, arms tight around his chest, ready to die if it meant he could save him. He could feel both their hearts beating wildly through the layers of clothing, reminding him they were both still alive.

They were alive, and the oppressive dark from the chamber had shifted to the orange glow of a desert sunset. Vader's foul presence was gone, vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. He realized then that he was lying on some warm sand, while gentle fingers were combing back his hair in the most tender gesture.

Luke opened his eyes, and saw himself as a young boy on the dunes of Tatooine. The suns were gone behind the horizon, leaving only a few streaks of dying light across the sky. Night was falling, but he wasn't alone this time. He wasn't afraid. What helpless dread he had felt before was now replaced by warm safety, wrapping around him like a cool breeze.

That gentle hand came around to press against his cheek, and he looked up into his father's soft smile. He was here. He was really back.

" _Please, wake up."_

Luke bolted up in the cot with a loud gasp. He was in the medical ward, lying in a tangle of hospital blankets. A cold sweat had plastered his fringe to his forehead, and his heart was still pounding in his ears.

Just a dream, he thought.

But no.

He could still feel it. The warmth on his cheek where the hand had touched him. It couldn't be just a dream.

There was something different. The Force was stirring around him with a flickering presence. It nudged the edge of his mind, reaching for him with earnest, calling to him. Luke swung his legs over the edge of the cot. His eyes had gone wide. This was exactly what he'd been yearning to feel for three long days while rooted to the spot next to his father's bed, what he'd been searching for like a maniac. He closed his eyes, letting go of his senses, focusing on the flow of the Force, and reached back.

" _Father?"_

He held his breath. He waited.

" _Luke."_

Just one word, but Luke was already moving in a blind dash. Chewie jumped back when the boy bolted out the door, growling after him in confusion. A few droids scattered out of his way, but Luke didn't see them. He didn't even notice Han coming down the corridor in front of him, carrying a refectory tray stacked with food between his hands.

"Woah, kid! Hey!"

The smuggler dodged to the side, balancing the tray of food precariously while Luke darted past him. Startled, he turned to see the younger man disappear around the corner and out of sight.

"What in blazes got into him?" he exclaimed, glancing back perplexedly at Chewbacca.

The wookie could only shrug, equally as confused. "Gggwarrrrhww."

Han shook his head. "Well, let's go after him. Kid'll probably run into a wall or something."

But Luke's path was unwavering. His feet carried him straight across the _Redemption_ in a frenzied blur, past stunned medics and patients, and back into the hallway of intensive care unit. His heart was beating wildly, and he came to a sudden stop in front of the door to the observation room, where he almost crashed right into a wide eyed Leia. She had been about to bolt out of the room, but now she just stared at him for a moment before grabbing his arm and shoving him back inside.

"He moved! I saw him move," she gasped, gesturing excitedly towards the bed.

Anakin still lay under the sheets and the mess of bandages, but as they watched, his fingers made the smallest twitch, grasping weakly at the blanket.

Luke surged forward instantly and fell to his knees next to the bed. He placed his hand on his father's shoulder, almost afraid to break the illusion. He could still be dreaming. But Anakin's eyelids shifted slightly in response to his touch, and Luke had to choke down an overjoyed laugh.

It wasn't a dream.

A series of beeps came from the medical equipment around the room, signaling a sudden change in the patient's readings. Luke took no notice. He could feel his father's awareness becoming stronger in the Force, slowly rising from the fog of oblivion, and he latched on to that presence with his own. Anakin's breath hitched when he did so, and then his lips parted in a labored sigh.

This made Luke smile in relief. Encouraged, he swallowed down his mounting apprehension and leaned in closer to the bed.

"Father?"

His answer was soft crease of Anakin's brow, before his eyes slowly fluttered open, glazed and unfocused, squinting in the glare of the light. Luke reared and grasped Anakin's hand, feeling his heart jump up to his throat.

"Father," he called again, voice now trembling with feeling.

Those blue eyes became clearer, fending off the last tendrils of unconsciousness, and finally turned to meet Luke's own.

Their gazes found each other, and the entire galaxy seemed to narrow around the young Jedi. He couldn't fight the tears any longer. He didn't want to. They just came pouring down his cheeks while his shoulders quaked and his hands shook uncontrollably around his father's. Every muscle in his body felt like it was deflating with staggering relief.

He's alright, he told himself. He's going to be alright.

Anakin was watching him, his expression an erratic mess of emotions which slowly settled into wonder. There was still a hint of lingering pain, but it didn't stop him from squeezing Luke's hand tightly and smiling beneath the oxygen mask.

"My son."

The voice was hoarse with disuse, but it was everything Luke had wanted. At last, the sobs escaped him, and he pressed his face into Anakin's hand while he wept. He's alright.

Three days ago, his greatest wish had come true. Now he could finally relish the truth of it without fear of having it all ripped away from him again. Soft fingers began to caress his cheek, and he vowed nothing would ever take this away from him again.

His father was alive.

 

**TBC**


	4. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! As always, thank you so much for the lovely reviews! You have no idea how much I appreciate you reading my story and letting me know what you think! I want to apologize for the long wait this time. I was ill for most of April and May, and I honestly did not feel much like writing for a while. But I'm back on the horse, and this time with a double event. Here's a nice little Interlude today, and later today I'll be posting Chapter 3!
> 
> Enjoy, my lovelies! Reviews are love!

* * *

 

**Interlude**

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**.**

**.**

_**Command Center, Home One** _

_The three rebel leaders stood frozen around the large central holoprojector, their earlier discussion of potential planets for the Alliance's new secret base completely forgotten. A stunned silence had settled over the war room aboard Home One, and Admiral Ackbar found himself leaning heavily on the holoprojector's controls, astonished by what he'd just heard._

_Just moments before, a young ensign had burst into the war room, interrupting their conference and bringing the most shocking news the Alliance High Command would have ever expected. They had all been privy to the imperial vessel that dropped out of hyperspace dangerously close to the fleet a while ago. The ship had been captured and the pilot brought into custody, said the eager ensign, her breathless speech displaying her excitement. But that was not the gist of the report._

_"Anakin Skywalker?" Poised Mon Mothma was the first to find her voice again, and she repeated the name like it was a half-forgotten memory._

_"The Jedi Knight?" General Madine took a step towards the ensign, almost daring her to be deceiving them. "He was piloting that TIE fighter?"_

_The young woman's eyes were still wide from when she first heard the news herself. "Not so much piloting it, sir," she said. "The navigation systems were fried, and one of the ion engines was dead. It was a drifting wreck, but he was in there."_

_"Stars above." Mothma gasped softly, raising her hand to grasp at her necklace. "Could it really be him?"_

_Madine's brows furrowed. "How did he find the fleet?"_

_Ackbar raised his head at this, coming out of his shocked stupor. "If the navicomputer is inoperational, he must have jumped blindly to these coordinates."_

_"That's impossible," Madine stated, turning sharply to the Mon Calamari._

_Mothma lowered her eyes as she recalled countless Holonet stories and senate reports from the battlefront of the Clone Wars, and a small smile bloomed on her lips. "He's a Jedi," she said, looking sideways to her comrades. "We've all seen them do the impossible."_

_Madine glanced at her, with an uncharacteristic touch of tenderness in his usual somber expression. "It can't be him, Mon," he sighed. "Anakin Skywalker is dead. He was killed during Order 66."_

_"Princess Leia confirmed his identity, sir," said the ensign, still standing across the room, stiff with bursting energy. "And…wouldn't Commander Skywalker recognize his own father?"_

_Mothma shook her head gently. "Commander Skywalker never met his father." said the former senator, then turned to face her companions fully. "But Princess Leia would never make such claims if she wasn't absolutely sure."_

_"Agreed." Ackbar nodded. "But, if it is General Skywalker, why was he aboard an imperial TIE fighter?"_

_"Because he stole it," blurted the ensign. Then all three rebel leaders pinned her with questioning stares, and she fumbled to explain the theory that had already begun to spread from the pilots and mechanics that witnessed the scene in the hangar. "He… he was pretty beaten up, sir. I mean, he was injured. Like he'd been in a fight. And there's the damage to the ship, as well. It's obvious somebody wanted him dead. He could have stolen the TIE fighter to escape...sir."_

_Indeed, that was precisely the kind of scenario that General Madine would have expected these idealistic young soldiers to conjure up for the fabled Jedi knight's mysterious appearance. He realized that he himself would have imagined something similar just a few years before, but he could not afford to do so no. Too much was at stake._

_The General sighed and straightened, speaking before the other rebel leaders were done considering the ensign's report. "Has he said anything?"_

_"He was unconscious," answered the young woman. "Princess Leia transported him to the Redemption for medical attention."_

_"She should have consulted with us," said Madine sternly. "This could have been some sort of elaborate trap."_

_Mothma raised an eyebrow and regarded the blonde man. "Resurrecting a deceased war hero and sending him to us half dead on a drifting fighter?" she asked incredulously. "Does that sound like an Imperial scheme to you? What would it accomplish?"_

_The two locked eyes from across the holoprojector, both rigid and questioning, both still hesitant despite the urge to hope. Madine was the first to look away._

_"Mon, we're still unsure if it even is Skywalker," he said, his voice resolute. "It's my job to think the way the Empire does, and I've long known not to put anything past them. We must make certain of who this person is."_

_Mothma smiled. "Then see to it, General," she said. "Make your inquiries. We all know that Commander Skywalker is Anakin's son. A paternity test should reveal the truth of the matter. "_

_"But it leaves many questions still unanswered," Ackbar cautioned, looking between his two companions._

_"I know." Mothma's voice had turned soft, as it always did when she allowed herself to truly reflect on the realities of the Rebellion. "But we cannot allow our fears to rule our judgement. That's exactly what the Empire wants us to do. If there's even the slightest possibility that this is really Skywalker, then we must have hope."_

_So many had died already. How many more would die in the months, or years to come? She was not a war leader, nor a fighter by any stretch of the term. She had known this from the very beginning. Madine and Ackbar, and even young Leia. They were the real warriors. She was just a senator; a politician who knew more about intersystem shipment regulations than basic martial strategy. But what Mon Mothma did know most of all was how people thought. That was her true strength. She saw this conflict as a struggle between ideas, rather than military forces. Tyranny against justice. Oppression against brotherhood. Darkness against light. Soldiers fought for these ideals, not for lifeless planet systems and secret arms depos at the edge of the Outer Rim. That's why the victory at Yavin had been so pivotal. It had cemented an idea in the minds of all rebels, that their fight for freedom could be won after all, that the Alliance's cause was not as impossible as it seemed._

_But if Anakin Skywalker truly was alive, she knew nothing would ever seem impossible again. It would start a smoldering fire in the midst of the Rebellion, igniting its righteous fury like nothing ever had before. The Empire would have to face an unstoppable wave of courage and resolve. Mothma decided to hold on to that hope, as idealistic and dangerous as she knew it was. Maidine was more than capable of being suspicious enough for the both of them._

_Her mind made up, the former senator squared her shoulders and waited for the General's response._

_Madine's stern visage had not changed, but his eyes shown with the weight of indecision. She could tell that he also wanted to believe the fantastic scenario described by the ensign, as much as he insisted on prudent distrust._

_"We will keep him under surveillance until he can be questioned," he said finally, tucking his hands behind his back. Mothma cocked her head slightly, so he added, "Just as a precaution."_

_The former senator smiled, nodding in compliance. "Of course."_

_"And if it is him?" asked the ensign suddenly, unable to hold back the question any longer. "If he's really a Jedi? What would that mean?"_

_The three rebel leaders fell silent, regarding the bright eyed young woman across the conference room, and finding her guileless eagerness slowly seeping into themselves. How long had it been since any of them felt any unhindered hope?_

_"If this is indeed Anakin Skywalker," said Mothma softly, "Then he has come to us like a gift from the Force."_

_"Indeed," Ackbar nodded, his voice retaking the serious tone of the admiral. "His protection must be ensured. The Empire will be looking for him. If he escaped from their custody, then they must know he is alive."_

_"But first we must see to his recovery," said Mothma, then she turned back to the ensign. "Tell Princess Leia to send us word on his condition, and to please keep us updated."_

_The girl straightened to attention. "Yes, ma'am."_

_"This may be our chance to set things right," continued the older woman. "The Republic failed to protect the Jedi. After years of faithful service, we abandoned them to their fate when they needed us most. We won't make the same mistake twice."_

_"Yes, ma'am!"_

_And then the ensign dashed out of the conference room in a flash, leaving the three officers in a contemplative silence once again. None of them spoke for a long time, each lost in their own reflections. Madine's eyes were fixed on the exit, his posture stiff with latent uncertainty. This situation could so easily turn disastrous, he thought. There so many unseen variables, so much that they did not know. They were flying blind. And yet, if this turned out to be true..._

_Mothma glided towards one of the benches surrounding the holoprojector and lowered herself to the seat._

_"Skywalker," she whispered into the quiet chamber. "The Hero With No Fear."_

_"Where has he been all these years?" asked Ackbar. "He was certainly not the type to go into hiding."_

_"I heard stories," said Mothma, pressing her hands together on her lap. "Terrible rumors during the early days of the Empire, of Jedi being captured and brought back to secret locations. I thought it was just vulgar gossip. The Emperor always made such a spectacle of their public executions. I never imagined… But, perhaps… "_

_Madine watched her speak. "You believe he may have been held captive all this time?" he asked._

_"You said so yourself, General Madine," said Ackbar. "We cannot put anything past the Empire."_

_"Their malice knows no bounds." Mothma agreed heartily. "I can't believe that Skywalker would ever have abandoned his child. He must have been taken, perhaps captured during the raid on the Jedi Temple. So many things happened that day that we still don't know about."_

_"But why keep him alive?" Madine brought forth. "For what purpose? It makes no sense to imprison him indefinitely."_

_Mothma shook her head. "Perhaps not to us," she said. "Let's not forget who we're dealing with. We can never hope to understand Emperor Palpatine's true motivations, or the atrocities he's capable of. We can only react to them. There's no telling why he would imprison Jedi, but I do not doubt that we could, for whatever sick purpose."_

_Madine was silent for a long time. Mothma could almost see the ideas bouncing off each other in his head. "You truly believe it's him?" he asked her._

_The chancellor was surprised by her own lack of hesitation. "Yes. Yes, it seems I do," she said evenly. "I have to. The Alliance needs another miracle, Crix. We are at a turning point in this war. Anakin Skywalker was a symbol. Just hearing his name brought people hope, and inspired them to fight for their freedom. I would have that hope restored for the Alliance. We need it now more than ever."_

 

_**TBC** _


	5. Bonds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here's Chapter 3. Since I kept you all waiting for so long, I figured I needed to something special. So here's part 2 of the double feature for your reading pleasure!
> 
> R&R!

* * *

 

**III**

**Bonds**

**.**

**.**

**.**

Luke didn’t know how long he lay there, sprawled half on top of the medical cot. It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, but the gentle fingers combing through his hair made every second feel like an eternity.

He couldn’t remember the last time he cried like this, so fiercely and unhinged, his whole frame shaking with every breath he took. Even as a boy, it hadn’t been in his nature to cry. He’d been afraid of seeming as childish as he sometimes felt, longing for a family that could never be and chasing impossible dreams. There had even been a period in his boyhood when he thought crying was the most shameful thing of all. But now he was here, kneeling on the cold tile next to his father’s bed, and it was like a barrier had suddenly lifted from all those times he hadn’t allowed himself to weep. He couldn’t hold back anymore. 

He was undone. 

Anakin’s hand had paused its stroking, coming to rest firmly on the back of his son’s neck and curving there. It was a warm, soothing gesture, and it coaxed Luke to rise up and meet his father's half-lidded gaze. When he was little, Aunt Beru had once told him he had his father’s eyes. Knowing that had given him so much comfort growing up. It was like having a little piece of his father with him, something no one could ever take away. Now those eyes were boring into Luke’s with keen wonder, still glassy from sleep and straining to remain focused. They blinked through the blur of Anakin’s own tears, and regarded the young man leaning over him with a soft smile. 

Luke choked on his own breath, a cross between a laugh and a sob, and beamed down at his father with two decades’ worth of starved joy. 

There were no words between the two Skywalkers. Neither felt capable of turning their present thoughts into speech. But Luke could feel the Force pulsing through them, back and forth, flooding them with each other’s frantic emotions. The familiarity of the sensation left him breathless. He had never connected with anyone like this before. At best, his pitiable attempts at self-training had only given him a trifling awareness of other people’s presence, nothing more than a tug at the edge of his senses. Most of the time he couldn’t even tell if what he was feeling was his own imagination or the touch of someone else’s mind. But now it was so clear, and so...easy. 

Their minds melded together seamlessly. Luke could feel his father’s enthralled disbelief, outshined only by a gush of warmth that enveloped Luke in its intensity. The younger Skywalker reached for the other’s hand, doing his unpracticed best to return every bit of that warmth while also trying to make sense of everything that overloaded their connection. Joy. Confusion. Worry. Relief. Love. Anakin clasped his son’s fingers, even as his arm hung heavily from Luke’s hand. 

The young rebel felt like he was twelve years old again. There was so much he wanted to say. So much he needed to ask. But even though he had been dreaming of this moment his entire life, he couldn’t find the words to say any of it now. In that moment, all he could see was the warmth of blue eyes, drowning him with years of denied tenderness.   

His father was alive. He was alive, and he was safe. That was all he could think about, until Anakin’s brow began to twist in silent agony.

Fire cut through their joined minds like a bludgeon, and it wrenched Luke back into reality. Anakin shut his eyes. Clenching his jaw beneath the oxygen mask, he began to pull away from their connection, blocking Luke’s senses to the sharp flares of pain spreading across his body. But before the link was severed, Luke fumbled to hold fast in an unskilled rush. He felt a spike of foreboding from his father, and the young rebel pressed back on their link through the Force, wanting to reassure him. 

“Father. I’m here,” he said, shuffling so close their breaths could have mingled. “You’re going to be okay. You’re safe.” 

He wouldn’t let his father go through this alone, and that’s what he tried to convey through their new found bond. Anakin’s breath shuddered in response to his child’s Force presence, but the block between their minds remained stubbornly in place. Unsettled, Luke bit the inside of his cheek, lost in that familiar feeling of helplessness once again. 

The next few moments were a blur of activity. A swarm of medical droids crowded into the room and Luke was forced to move out of the way. Anakin was too exhausted to answer any of the medics’ questions. He winced from the first glancing contact of the droids’ prods, exposing the seriousness of his injuries to all around him. His entire body began to tremble then, and the medics proceeded with greater urgency. After a few minutes, the droids suggested a sedative and painkillers, so they could finish their examination without causing their patient any further discomfort. Anakin eyed them uncertainly. Although his face was tight with pain, there was a clear apprehension in his manner as he watched the droids prepare the medication. Eventually, though, he seemed to succumb to the throbbing in his limbs and nodded, no doubt tempted by the promise of quick relief.

During the procedure, his eyes sought out Luke. His son was standing close by, and though he was visibly unsettled, he offered him a comforting smile that proved enough to calm Anakin’s unease. The deep crease on his brow softened as he returned the kind gesture, and then he was letting his eyes slide shut, slipping back into gentle oblivion.

Luke, however, was still far from relieved. Once his father was sound asleep, the droids removed the oxygen mask and began to redress his wounds with automated care. First came the gouge on his shoulder, still raw and fresh out of surgery. Then they changed the mess of bacta patches covering Anakin’s arms and chest. Luke turned away pointedly, already having had enough of seeing his father’s broken body. He didn’t know how much more he could take when JD-9 finally came over to him while the others droids continued to work.

“Master Skywalker will sleep for a few hours, Commander,” it said, sounding quite pleased. “He’ll feel much better when he wakes up. The medication should numb his discomfort considerably. I assure you he’s past any serious danger. It’s only a matter of repose and careful observation now. We expect he’ll be fully recovered in a few weeks.”

Luke sighed and leaned heavily against the wall, feeling like a bantha bull had just been lifted off his shoulders. “Thank you, JD. Really,” he said, smiling genuinely at the droid.

“It is my pleasure, sir. I shall return at the start of the next cycle to check on him. Do make sure he takes his rest.” 

“Alright. I will.”

Then the medics filed out, wandering off towards the other patients in the med bay, and that’s when Luke finally realized there was still someone else in the room.

She had never left. 

Leia was beaming happily at him from the corner, her eyes glittering with unshed tears. She was just reaching up to wipe them away when she was suddenly engulfed in the circle of Luke’s arms. The princess returned the embrace without hesitation, holding her friend while he laughed and cried simultaneously into her shoulder. She saw no reason to hold back her own tears now, certain that they were nothing more than a surge of delight on behalf of her dear friend.

“Luke?” she called gently, rubbing her hand up and down his back.

“He called me, Leia. I heard him through the Force,” he told her breathlessly, pulling back so he could see her. “We met in a dream...or a vision, I’m not sure. But…”

Luke’s voice faded, and his face went white as the terrible details of the dream slowly came back him.

Concerned by his change in demeanor, Leia laid her hand on his arm. “What happened?”

“Vader was there,” he said gravely. “We fought, and he tried to—”

Leia’s eyes had gone wide. “Oh, Luke.”

The air in the room had grown colder, and the young rebel leader could feel her skin crawl just at the mention of the emperor’s dark enforcer.

“It’s just like we said. I know it is,” Luke muttered, now staring at the ground like he was about to start pounding it with his fists. “Vader had him. He was holding him prisoner and no one even knew.”

The bitterness in Luke’s voice was so uncharacteristic that Leia had to stop herself from shuddering. “But it’s over now, Luke,” she said urgently. “We won’t let Vader get to your father. The Alliance _will_ protect our Jedi knights. I promise you.”

Luke’s scowl softened when she said that, the coils of anger just melting from his brow. Instead, he smiled sheepishly and looked down at the floor between them, a happy realization jolting through him.

“I thought I was going to have to do this all on my own,” he said softly. “Learn to be a Jedi, I mean. But to tell you the truth, I never really thought I could do it. Not alone.”

He thought of all the frustration and hindered hopes he’d encountered during his naïve experiments with the Force. Everything he tried had felt like a dead end, inadequate and pointless. All he had to work with was the memory of Ben’s short-lived lessons, and he had quickly realized that he wasn’t good enough to grasp the heart of those lessons on his own.

But Leia was frowning. “You’re wrong,” she said, pulling his face up by the chin so she could meet his eye. “Luke, I know you could have done it, if it came to that. There’s no doubt in my mind.”

Luke laughed under his breath, blushing under her intense stare. “Yeah,” he said. “But now I won’t have to.”

It was more than he could have ever hoped for, a chance to learn the ways of the Force from his father. He couldn’t imagine anything more natural, or more… _right_. It should have always been his father teaching him the path of the Jedi. And he knew it would have been, had their family not been torn apart by a madman’s spite.

Leia was patting his arm lightly, and her soft touch helped him steer his mind away from that dark place. “Are you alright?” she asked.

He turned to her and smiled. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ll be fine.”

Glancing back at Anakin’s sleeping form, so serene now by the mercy of the drugs,  he realized he meant it this time. They would both be fine.

Leia followed his gaze, and watched the rise and fall of the legendary Jedi’s chest. “High Command asked to be informed as soon as he woke up. They’ll want to meet with him, once he’s well enough,” she said. “Any information he might have about the Empire will be highly useful.”

“I know. I’ll talk to him,” Luke nodded, eyeing her carefully now. “Are _you_ alright?”

Just like Luke, Leia’s eyes were still puffy, and her cheeks were stained with dried tears. She wiped them away hastily with her thumb, embarrassed. 

“Of course. Just tired,” she said, reburying the nameless emotions that had crept upon her. She was a rebel leader, a seasoned fighter and politician. She had seen people being blasted down right in front of her eyes. For many years, she had learned to master the whims of her heart. That was essential when you led a life of war. But now her feelings were brewing up a storm inside her, confused and out of control. What was happening to her? 

“I’m going to go report to Mothma now,” she said, already turning towards the door, but finding her steps inexplicably heavy. “I’ll be back soon.” 

Luke almost stopped her, filled with a sudden yearning for her to stay. But he knew Leia had a lot work to do. Too much work. He wouldn’t bother her with silly requests. She had already done so much for him and his father during these last few days. “Okay. I’ll see you later.” 

The two of them shared a warm smile before Leia stepped out of the room, the glass doors sliding shut behind her. Once again, Luke was left alone with Anakin. But this time around, the weight over his heart felt far less crushing, easily undone by the sight of his father’s tranquil demeanor. Feeling at ease for the first time in days, Luke trudged back to his usual spot and settled down on the chair next to the bed.  

Out in the hall, Leia was taking a deep calming breath as she made her way out of the ICU. She was so distracted that she almost walked right into a wall of irritating smuggler. 

Han was waiting by the entrance to the med bay, balancing a tray overflowing with food between his hands. “Hey. Luke alright?” 

“Yes,” she told him, secretly taking comfort in his earnest dark eyes. “The General woke up.” 

“Skywalker’s awake?” The plates on the tray shook dangerously when Han spoke. “That’s great! Has he said anything? Did you talk to him? What was he like?” 

Behind him, Chewbacca also growled in animated curiosity. 

“No. He’s still very weak. He needs to rest,” said Leia, walking past them quickly.  “And I need to get back to _Home One_. Are you coming?” 

Han and Chewie stared after her, perplexed by her terse manner. Han just rolled his eyes. “Well, of course, your Worshipfulness,” he grumbled. “Whatever you say.” 

Ill humored now, he started to follow Leia, stomping down the corridor until Chewie growled again, motioning for the tray he still carried. 

“Ah, right. Is Luke gonna want this, or no?”

 

* * *

 

Luke fell asleep, slumped forward on the edge of the cot with his head resting over his arms. 

He hadn’t meant to let it happen, but the waves of fatigue had won him over once again. Blessedly, no dreams disturbed him this time, and he was finally able to take the rest his body was so urgently demanding. By the time he woke up, he felt much better than he had in days, albeit a little stiff around the shoulders. 

His eyes blinked open when he felt a jostle on the bed. Lurching awake, he jerked his head up and found his father stirring weakly, warding off the drug induced haze brought on by the sedatives. His movements were slow and heavy, but he didn’t seem to be in any pain like before. Relieved to see this, Luke pressed his hand gently over his father’s, and watched as those pale blue eyes, so much like his own, slowly settled on him. 

“Luke.” The name was a rasping sigh, barely a whisper. 

“Father,” answered Luke, leaning over the bed and lifting their joined hands between them. “I’m here.” 

Anakin’s brow furrowed. His gaze was searching Luke’s anxiously. “Are you…” he started, but his voice waned, already out of breath.    

“Shh, don’t try to talk. Save your strength,” Luke urged. 

But Anakin shook his head. “In the dream….,” he ground out.  “Did he hurt you?” 

Luke started at the allusion to the dream, the angry red of a lightsaber flashing in his mind’s eye. But he shoved the memory out his head.   

“No,” he said soothingly. “No, I’m alright. Don’t worry about me.”   

Despite his words, his father continued to watch him with a sharp expression, searching Luke’s face for any sign of injury he might be trying to conceal. Eventually, he sighed heavily and dropped back, though his eyes remained wary. “I thought...for a moment—” 

Luke grasped Anakin’s hand even tighter, interrupting him. “It’s okay,” he whispered emphatically . “He didn’t hurt me. I’m okay.”

Not that Vader hadn’t tried. That depraved monster had been ready to kill him without a shred of remorse, but Anakin had stopped him. Battered and weak as he was, he had stopped Vader. That image would be forever burned into Luke’s mind; his father clashing with the most vile man in the galaxy through the sheer power of the Force. It was the most incredible thing he had ever seen in his life, everything he knew his father would be.   

Anakin was staring at him now, seeing him but through a barrage of unspoken joy and grief. Eyes glistening, he lifted his hand, the one that was free of Luke’s vicegrip, and pressed it gingerly to his son’s cheek.     

“Luke,” he sighed. “My son.” 

It was more than Luke could bare. All of a sudden, he felt the brunt of a lifetime of loneliness resurfacing, and it was all he could do not to fall apart.   

“I thought you were dead,” he croaked miserably, pressing his face into his father’s palm. “My whole life, everyone told me you were dead.” 

Anakin seemed confused by this admission, brows rising in surprise. But he shook it aside as he regarded his son. “I thought the same of you,” he confessed, voice trembling with subdued emotion. “For years, I believed you never even got to draw your first breath.” 

Luke ground his teeth. Twenty years, and neither of them had even been aware of each other. 

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I should have known… I should have known you were still alive. I could have saved you.” 

Anakin breathed out what could have been a bitter chuckle, and let his hand slide back down to the bed sheets. “No, Luke,” he said. “You were just a boy. I’m glad you didn’t know about me. You didn’t deserve such a cruel burden.” 

Luke reared up like he’d been slapped. “How can you say that?” 

“The truth would have put you in danger,” his father said, turning away to stare blankly at an empty spot at the foot of his bed. “It was for the best. At least you were free of that grief, if only for a while.” 

That sunk into Luke like a gulp of boiling water. He’d had plenty of grief believing his father was dead, but now he wondered what his life would have been like knowing Anakin was actually alive, but hopelessly out of his reach, in the clutches of a killer.

He clenched his jaw. “I wish I could have helped you.” 

Anakin turned back to face him then, his eyes becoming softer than Luke had ever seen them. All of a sudden, Luke was struck by how ancient his father seemed. It wasn’t something he could really define. In terms of looks, Anakin Skywalker could have passed for a man ten years younger. But there was a kind of weariness imbued in the very air surrounding the legendary Jedi—a melancholy that reached Luke through the Force, and pulled viciously at his heart. It made the man appear far older than he surely was.   

“But you did, Luke,” Anakin said, still holding his son in that doting stare. “You did save me. Learning you were still alive brought me back from the brink of ruin. I don’t know what would have become of me, or what I would have done if I had never heard your name. It wrenched me out of the black pit I had buried myself in. You’re the reason I’m here right now.” 

Luke started, utterly dumbstruck by his father’s words. A thousand questions were now tumbling over each other in his head, many of which he still wasn’t ready to ask. But he couldn’t help but brighten as he returned Anakin’s fond smile. 

But there was one thing he needed to know, something that wouldn’t leave him alone until he asked. “How did you know where to find me?” 

“You called to me,” his father answered. 

Luke’s eyes widened. “I did?” 

Anakin nodded, settling back against the cot. “Through the Force. I could feel your mind reaching out for mine. It led me straight to you.” 

Somehow, Luke knew exactly what he meant. “During the exercise…” he mumbled to himself, then jerked up excitedly. “Has it ever happen before? Could you hear me?” 

Their Force connection had remained constant and unbroken ever since his father first woke up. To Luke, it was almost starting to feel like second nature, as familiar to him as his very own thoughts. He’d even begun to suspect that it had always been there, inherent in his mind, but he’d never recognized it for what it was until Anakin reached back with his more practical knowledge of the Force.    

But his father was shaking his head. “No,” he said. “That was the first time. It might have been impossible before, i think. Although I did try, almost obsessively, after I found out who you were.” 

Luke pressed his lips together, now haunted by the spectre of their Force bond; that direct link to his father that had been muzzled into silence his entire life. “It doesn’t matter,” he said then, looking vehemently in Anakin’s eye. “You’re here now, that’s all I care about. I’m just glad to have my father back.” 

He was instantly engulfed in a rush of warmth, a reflection of his own candid joy flowing through the Force. 

Anakin squeezed their hands together, and met his son’s beaming face with his own. “I, as well.” 

Luke grinned, and then the two of them fell into an easy silence. The air was humming with the distant rumble of the ship’s engines, accompanied by the soft rhythmic chattering of the medical equipment. Luke couldn’t remember the last time he felt this calm. For a few moments, he could almost pretend like there wasn’t a gruesome war happening just beyond the doors of the observation room.    

After a while, he noticed his father lowering his gaze, down to their clasped hands. Chalky pale on golden tan, a perfect contrast. He seemed mesmerized for a moment, flexing and unflexing his fingers repeatedly around Luke’s. Then he looked sideways at his other arm, lying on top of the bed sheets with a scattered layer of bacta patches. Turning his palm upward, he began to rub his thumb and forefinger together lightly, until his attention shifted to the rest of the observation room. 

“Where are we?” he asked, watching the ICU outside through the glass wall. 

“Onboard the Alliance medical frigate, the _Redemption_ ,” answered Luke automatically. 

Anakin’s eyes remained impassive. He just lay motionless on the narrow bed and continued to stare right past his son with a hollow expression. “The Alliance…” 

Luke explained further, worried by the sudden dullness of his father’s voice. “Yeah. Do you remember? You dropped out of hyperspace in the middle of the fleet onboard a TIE fighter. You were... badly hurt, so we brought you here. That was three days ago.” 

Again this had no immediate reaction from the elder Skywalker. Letting out a long deep breath, like a quiet surrender to an unseen power, he turned his head back so he could stare at the ceiling above his cot. 

“I’m a prisoner, then?” he asked, with nothing short of spiritless submission. 

“What?” Luke recoiled. Now it was he who sat frozen in shock. Was that what his father thought? “No! Of course not! We rescued you from the wreckage.” 

Anakin whipped around. “Rescued me? They—” 

Suddenly, his whole body was wracked by a bout of violent coughing. 

Luke was on his feet in an instant and drew his father up from the bed, supporting him gently around the shoulders until the coughing was done. 

“Don’t talk anymore. You need to rest,” he urged, trying to repel his mounting concern. His father was just unsettled by everything that had happened, he told himself, but Anakin was grasping his sleeve frantically. 

“Luke,” he said, still heaving hard. “Do they know who I am?” 

It took a moment for Luke to make sense of the question. “Some people do,” he said. “We couldn’t keep it a secret for long. I mean, you’re Anakin Skywalker. But don’t worry. You’re safe here.” 

That’s when his father went rigid in his arms, his hand dropping from his sleeve like a dead weight in a pond. “You don’t know.” 

“What?” Luke felt their Force bond waiver. He fretted, grasping to hold to it. “Father, the Empire won’t be able to find us, I promise. They won’t hurt you ever again.” 

But Anakin was shaking his head even before he finished, eyes fraught and disbelieving like the ground had been suddenly wrenched from under him. “You don’t know,” he mumbled again, and Luke barely heard a whisper echoing in the fading traces of their connection. _“Obi-wan…you never told him.”_  

“Told me what?” he asked aloud anxiously, but the question was like a blow to his distraught father. 

Anakin tensed even further, breathing hard into the quiet room. What little was left of their mental link had faded behind a cold wall, and Luke was left reeling with startled worry. 

“Father—?” 

“I’m sorry, my son,” Anakin rasped. “I’m so sorry.” 

Luke thought he’d misheard at first, but the sheer despair in his father’s look screamed of a crushing regret that he just couldn’t ignore.   

“What for?” he asked, struggling to find the tendrils of Anakin’s mind again, desperate to find a way to ease his distress. 

Every bit of strength seemed to have forsaken his father. He lay limp against Luke, lost within a sea of grief that spilled forth from his eyes in wretched tears. Slowly, he raised a shaking hand to his son’s cheek, almost afraid to even touch him now. 

He watched Luke intently for the longest time, as if seeing him for the very first time all over again. Luke squirmed under that broken stare. He felt like his father was looking right through him, peering into the very core of his being. But he did not resist. He wanted nothing more than to banish whatever horrors were plaguing his father, and if this moment was of any comfort, then he would give him all of it.  

After countless heartbeats, Anakin finally stopped his silent perusal and found his voice again. “I’ve missed so much,” he whispered, stroking his thumb softly under Luke’s eye. “You’re a grown man. What need could you have of me now? You must hate me.” 

Luke blinked in indignation. What was his father saying? “No. It wasn’t your fault,” he said, grasping Anakin’s hand in his. “None of it was your fault.” 

A pitiful laugh, and then Anakin shut his eyes. “You’re wrong,” he said, already shaking with the force of his mounting sorrow. “It _was_ my fault. Everything that’s happened is my fault. I abandoned you.” 

“Don’t say that.” Luke’s face became twisted, and he shook Anakin gently to strengthen his plea. 

All this time, there wasn’t a moment when he hadn’t worried about his father’s state of mind once he woke up. If his worst fears turned out to be true, then he’d known Anakin would require a great deal of help. Anyone would need time to heal after that kind of trauma, but Luke had not expected this heart wrenching self accusation. He was painfully lost for what to do. 

Anakin had begun to struggle against Luke’s arms, trying to curl away from his son . “You don’t know,” he said again, while his whole frame shook with half-suppressed sobs. “I’m not what you think I am.” 

“Stop it,” Luke gritted, refusing to let Anakin go. Instead, he pulled him even tighter against his chest, as close as he dared without hurting his injuries. 

“You’re my father,” he plowed on desperately. “That’s all I need to know.” 

And just like that, Anakin crumbled. Luke felt it like a shattering of glass echoing across the Force, as his father’s broken cries filled the medical bay. He could only hold him, muttering promises that everything would be alright, while the observation windows and the equipment in the room shuttered in time with Anakin’s pained delirium.

  
Luke was breathing hard. _What has Vader done to you?_

 

**TBC**


End file.
